By Ariel Dorfman

If this were a fairy-tale
If this were the night
after
the thousand and one nights
If this were the next night
after
the thousand and one nights
If this were a fairy-tale
and Scherezade had just finished
telling her final story
and the man who can order her death
had relented
If this were a fairy-tale where
Scherezade would not have to invent
one more story
one more story
so the night could end
in one more dawn
for her
and those other women
waiting for their death
unto rubble.

If this were a fairy-tale, Sarajevo,
And we were Scherezade
here outside in this world
sending you prayers
– as we have –
for a thousand and one nights
so the dawn would come
there in Sarajevo
If this were a fairy-tale
and you had sent us
– as you have –
over and over
your Sarajevo stories of one more cracked dawn
your Sarajevo whispers of one more shared
naked night of scars
breaking the siege with stories
If this were a fairy-tale
you in Sarajevo
we in New York
you in Sarajevo
we in Santiago
Scherezade in Sarajevo
Scherezade in New York
calling to each other
for a thousand and one dawns,
keeping each other alive
If this were a fairy-tale,
then this would be the day
this is it – the day, the day,
the night, the dawn,
this is when you should awaken there
in Sarajevo
under that sky
we see only on our screens
If this were a fairy-tale
right now you would awaken
right now I say
you have to be awakening
to the sounds of peace
and children in the street
playing like children
who awaken without fear
right now I say
If this were a fairy-tale
where many brides awaken
and many brothers await
If this were a fairy-tale
a thousand and one nights of betrayal
a thousand and one nights of siege
awaiting death
would have been should have been enough.
Yes. Let me say it again.
Should have been enough.
Enough. Enough. Enough.
How can it be
in this world
that a thousand and one nights
are not
are not
can never be
enough.

I think of Scherezade now
as she awakens
on the dawn after
her thousand and one nights.
I watch her watch the dawn.
I watch her listen to life purse her lips open her mouth
prepare herself
for one more day
that could be her last.
She already knows the story
even if in this world
a thousand and one stories
are not
are not
can never be
enough
she already knows the story
she will tell us
again
and again
and again
tonight
and tomorrow
and again tonight.