Will You Still be Gone?

                                            Will You Still be Gone?

When I reopen my eyes in the morning 
will you still be gone?
will the wind care to carry that wing
will this light evade this dawn
to remind me cruelly 
that it can sting
again and again
on sight and with prejudice
mindful and dull,
it can all be you, without me  
will you still be not here, or there?
will I fear
knowing what I have always known
reminded and null
that when I reopen my eyes in the morning
my love for you will never be as clear
or as strong, as lightless
as this awakening 
never as vivid as this dream
in which I saw you gleam 
minutes before
in a timeless stream
of still tears
shapeless, arid and aching
as if wingless on a windless shore
of weathered will and empty years
Will you still be gone
when I call your name, once again?

إلى امّ ناصر

‫                                          إلى امّ ناصر  (في عيدِنا)                                          ‬

‫              ‬
‫أسأل  والجواب يشفع  ،  من أيِّ   جَنَّة  ولأيِّ   زمان   يرجع ،   ويبدأ  هذا  التقويم؟‬
‫حلمٌ  بيقظة ، بحلمِ  ،  ساعة َ  يرى  الجمعُ   ملاكً   كما  صَقلتُه  ملكَات   في   نعيم؟‬

‫أو  عند  ضوءٍ   غَسَقيٍّ   تائهٍ   تردّدَ   خجلًا ،  وارتبكَ   وحيدا  في  ساعته    الأولى‬
‫وقت   لاقتْه   حتما  ودمعا  ابتسامتُك   وقرّة  عَيناك   فَرَحا ،  وصانْته  لمَستُك  أبدا ‬

‫وعندما   ركَع   هذا  الزمانُ   وذرفَ  طوعا،   يسلّم  ما  لديه  لكِ،  في   لحظة  ازليَّة‬
‫رشفَ  كلّ   ما  عنده   رعشاً  ،  من  حنانٍ   ومعاني   وأمنيات   فطريَّة  ،      عفويَّة‬

‫أين     يكون     هذا  الكونُ  السَمْتي   في   غير  انامل  لامسَت  وغَزَلت  حُلما  بحلم‬
‫بدموع  قُدسية ، وولجات  قلبٍ  ساكنٍ  ترنُّ  في  زمانٍ  مطلقٍ ، رنينُ  الوجودِ بالعدم‬

‫أين   يكون  هذا الحبُ  الفطريُّ  في  غير   أحضانٍ  صانتْ   الأوّلَ   والأخِر،  سويّا‬
‫وبكتْ  وابتسمتْ  وفرحتْ  وعبستْ  ورقصتْ  وذُبلتْ ،  عند كل صغيرة وكبيرة   هنيّا‬
‫ ‬
‫أين يكون  هذا الحبُ  الفطري ُّ  في غير  أعيننٍ  سهرتْ  ، وقهرتْ ،  نُُجُوما  واجرَاما‬
‫لتنمو وتزهر  براعمٌ  منها  ولها  ،  كضوءِ  شمس  دافئ ، دفئ  كفيّها أرضا وسلاما‬

‫أين  يكون  هذا الحبُ  الفطري ُّ في  غير حرقةِ   قلبٍ،  صَهَرت   كَوْنا  بدمعةٍ   ونظرة‬
‫أشعلتْ  بنورها  أفقا  عبر أفقِ  ،  وأسقتْ ذاك  المكان  بزمان عطريّ  ، قطرة  قطرة ‬

‫أين  يكون  هذا  الحب ُ الأزلَيُّ  في   غير  نَبضات  قلبٍ ، طرقتْ  ألُفا  ابواب   جناتِ‬
‫وخطّت  في  عُلوها‬ ودُنيها  مسارً لمَلَكٍ  عزَفت  صامتةً،  ورَسَمت  بغير الوانٍ  ولوحاتِ‬

‫وأين  تكون  أمّ ناصر من  شمسٍ  غيُورة،  جثَت  ترقُب نظرةً ،  وتستلهمُ  دفأ  وقربا‬
‫علّها  ترى  وتسمع  كونَا آخرَ صقَل  قوانينَه  بالدمعِ والدفئِ،  بدون فصولٍ أو حِسبا‬

‫وأين  تكون  أمّ ناصر  من  جنّاتٍ  وطأتْها  اقدامُ  كل  الأمّهاتِ ،  غير فنارا  وأيقونةَ‬
‫أضحتْ  ملاكً    على  أرضٍ  لم  تَعرف  قبلها  أو  بعدها  وَعدا ، كَسُعادٌ   لنا   وفينا‬

‫ ‬

The Taste of Snow and Fire

                  The Taste of Snow and Fire

Nizar said it like no other
though known and simple but far from home 
for he knew of this story long before
those eyes met that angelic face
and stayed on that antic road of no trace
and no apt words, no anchors and no shore
I tasted both in every breath
every morning its dew cheated death
in every stare and sight you were not there
and in every flight robbed of its sky and air
I tasted both in every sigh
I thought I felt your touch and warmth
holding back a tear and a lie
I tasted both as one, no clutch and no form
endless as in oath, dark and shy
hiding from them, from all
from you and me, in thrawl
from grace, from love, solitary and dire
remains the taste of your snow and your fire.

Unkissed Scars

                                Unkissed Scars


Through the prism of lonely defying eyes
are a lot like those untouched dying stars
but which belonged to none but mine, yours, and ours

Five in a constellation, nameless but of their own
seen silent from afar but remain unknown
as they cried in consolation and in hymn shone

Against the blackness and vastness of an ever nowhere
whether here, there, or that far or near somewhere
which we were never allowed to dare to dream or share

This surreal mirage far from our forgotten and unburried home
or from this stale time, this vast space and this stolen hope
as I kissed each one three times, each time breathless in tope

Who's to say what the sound of a silent cry is, or the scent of love
except you and I and all those scars, shy, and stars, high, above
kiss by kiss, I see them fly, homeless, together, as dove winged by dove.

A Palestinian Day of Remembrance (that of Sabra and Shatila)

                       A Palestinian Day of Remembrance
                         (that of Sabra and Shatila)


In the eleventh hour of their day 
I am reminded
of your day
eleven primes ago 
when hatred and steel blinded
them and the sun gray
and halted your time
your smile your glow
eleven primes ago
I never bid you right
nor given that part
of what's left of
that partisan soul
hid in this wounded heart
that others stole
I never bid you right
I see your faces with no traces
from a past condemned 
without an offence 
or a place or essence 
penned in timeless cases
of borders, camps, and phrases
to a shadowless, faceless presence
I never bid you right
Never understood the two names
nor why and how
time is halted now
for you not me 
I will never see
or why from this day I grow to love and hate
in this shy remembrance from this side of fate.

My Arab Spring that Never Was

                                    My Arab Spring that Never Was

I thought in numbers we could say what is 

or what was right

placards drawn with blood and no fright

young and old stay the course

street by street 

and night after night

where the stars have turned a page

and time its stray discourse

and the whole world a stage

on my spring that never was

Tell me if I am right

if you happen to see my black from my white

tell me if might had always made right

in this arab spring of mine

that never was

tell me if you can

tell me if history

or geography

or a crude stereography

have me and my story

and our arab glory 

in their jaws

or will it 

in my night

and in my endless flight

ever shine?

Tell me if you can

Red is the new color of my sight

not white

red is the new word

on the streets of my arab spring

that never was

red is the new color of my sight

or have I erred

tell me if you can

what have I stirred?

in this history

this geography

this arab glory?

that turns right into wrong

weak into strong

and what is whole 

into the absurd?

is it darker 

is it bright?

Tell me if you can

Three years and counting

from Benghazi to Baghdad

have we forgotten how to count?

or have we laid to rest all

that which together 

we have breathed

and dreamt

and defended stout

tell me if you can

was it sane or was it mad

to heed that call

for my arab spring that never was

to drop all for what was unsheathed 

and for that which was just and a cause

tell me if you can

I was there in every corner

and every turn

in every broken bone

and every moan

I was there

I touched and kissed every tear

year after year

one fading smile after the other

one hopeless yearn after another

I was there

street, capital, and 

conference

I no longer dare

to speak 

to face or stare

at

my arab spring that never was

here or there.

What say you, Um Mas'oud?

              What say you, Um Mas'oud?

                         

Someone left heaven's gate ajar

Um Mas'oud

a lingering half prayer half answered

but enough for me to slip in uninvited

from afar

and into this glimmer of a realm

that is forever foreign

forever not from here or there

always unchosen

but always from this side of Safed

with all that's left to share

but a key, a sigh and a stare   

among the abodes of rough tenderness

that hide tall the rescued pride

of a captured sun

and the decaying scars of justice denied

What say you, Um Mas'oud

of fate of the aimless

or fortune of the hopeless  

when it wanders into your heaven?

Displaced no longer I wandered in

buoyed from below and from within

to all that is you

about you, and for you

Um Mas'oud

Unrehearsed and unsanctioned

I have become your dual

and you,

Um Mas'oud

my true, my cue

my final

I re-learned my aleph ba'

to spell and draw

your beauty and our history

in the only language I was meant

to know, in virtue and in mystery

What say you, Um Mas'oud

of two wanderers' fate

when it fights to-date

that which was dealt?

Um Mas'oud, I caught heaven's eyes as they knelt

or they seem to have when I have felt

your steps crossing that side of Safed

to this side of history

and as they wept for your past  

and our future

Um Mas'oud, heaven's eyes are speechless

for words are bound to meanings inept

and times passed

when our land was in-between

this epoch and that rule

but through your eyes

seen anew and breathless

only through them

those eyes could we dare to dream

to cross to the other side of hope

What say you, Um Mas'oud

of a pair not of this world

their sight that of love, dream and pain 

can we with their light alone cope?

A mere oracle or two too far,

dear Um Mas’oud

between you and that Tolaytela,

you and Safed

us and this side

of history,

between them and

our denied tragedy

a mere oracle or two, Um Mas’oud

As a mere number or two also stand too far

between you and I

Um Mas’oud

Where giant stars fade

and ancient seas dry

“our” numbers stay

to haunt us betrayed

What say you, Um Mas’oud

of souls and dreams

that come unmade

when things compute and abstraction hoorayed?

Um Mas’oud, look me in the souls

through this divide

and follow mine across this collated time

and this fragmented space

as it rolls untied

down the timeless hills of Safed

under the spell of her thyme

and yours

Um Mas’oud, look me in the souls

across this divide

and whisper to me, time and again

that I once belonged to this heaven

in a dream stopped sudden

but will belong, born and then
from its soil, where the angels cried,

and to where you will return 

What say you, Um Mas’oud

of dreams that do not know how to die

in a timeless time, and

of a heaven that knows only your name?

What say you, Um Mas’oud?