For some time now,
And the ocean that separates us is not the reason for the abyss
Oh, my green-eyed sister,
Deep shadows streak your pallid face.
Withdrawn, you curl up in one corner, never look
Beyond the wall of silence.
My fingers stretch out,
Yet you are not there. You are not there.
When we are old. Very old. Will you know me?
Shall we stroll the hills of Jerusalem together, step within the walls,
Enter the narrow alleys,
Scrumptious humus dripping from pita hunks
At Abu Shukri’s on Al Wad Road?
Our sentences get entangled, so eager we are to speak and listen all at once.
Our laughs still resonate in me.
You have grown so, you have grown so.
Will I know you when I am old?