I Am There

I come from there and remember,

I was born like everyone is born, I have a mother

and a house with many windows,

I have brothers, friends and a prison.

I have a wave that sea-gulls snatched away.

I have a view of my own and an extra blade of grass.

I have a moon past the peak of words.

I have the godsent food of birds and an olive tree beyond the ken of time.

If I were another

If I were another on the road, I would not have looked

back, I would have said what one traveler said

to another: Stranger! awaken

the guitar more! Delay our tomorrow so our road

may extend and space may widen for us, and we may get rescued

from our story together: you are so much yourself ... and I am

so much other than myself right here before you!

I have a seat in the abandoned theater

I have a seat in the abandoned theater

in Beirut. I might forget, and I might recall

the final act without longing ... not because of anything

other than that the play was not written

skillfully ...

Chaos

as in the war days of those in despair, and an autobiography

of the spectators’ impulse. The actors were tearing up their scripts

and searching for the author among us, we the witnesses

sitting in our seats

To Our Land

To our land,
and it is the one near the word of god,
a ceiling of clouds
To our land,
and it is the one far from the adjectives of nouns,
the map of absence
To our land,
and it is the one tiny as a sesame seed,
a heavenly horizon ... and a hidden chasm
To our land,
and it is the one poor as a grouse’s wings,
holy books ... and an identity wound

Passport

They did not recognize me in the shadows
That suck away my color in this Passport
And to them my wound was an exhibit
For a tourist Who loves to collect photographs
They did not recognize me,

Ah . . . Don't leave
The palm of my hand without the sun
Because the trees recognize me
All the songs of the rain recognize me
Dont' leave me pale like the moon!