The Poet

You are with me when I smile

You are with me when I cry

You are with me when I do not believe

You are with me when I believe

You are with me when I am alone

You are with me when I speak to You

I find myself in many forms

all repeating themselves

hiding from the light

and striking their own hands

with the hand of their lover

Someone stands next to myself

in the mirror that is two ghosts

and doubt in my ability

to reach the full height

Return of love, requited

But I never announced it

It was a whisper

It was seductive

Who gives you to it?

At the root of wisdom

is lack of knowledge

Silence and the Tao

I am waiting for my return

I am waiting for the blessing I will receive 

and the feeling 

of coming home

I am waiting for love and beauty

in every day I walk 

in search of it

though it is not possible to replicate

from so far away

I am waiting for security agents

to stare in my eyes

and ask me question after question

of my intentions

I am waiting for the sound of prayer

I am waiting for a

Love 

Which can only be found

in the vastness of the Negev

I am waiting for zaatar 

I am waiting for labneh

I am waiting for fresh pita like crisp pillows

I am waiting for charif

the spicy, red sauce

to be eaten with everything

I am waiting for tea with cardamom

Honey

and dates

I am waiting for Hebrew and Arabic 

to float in the air,

singing 

so I will not ever forget them

or be without

I am waiting for the Kotel

I am waiting for the blessing

I am waiting for the closeness

I am waiting for the blanket 

to be wrapped around my arms

and my whole body

as if to say I am here

It also sat in my neighbors garden. Each time in passing, it waved hello with eyes half closed. My own eyes did not see, yet death came into the air through the act of silence and the act of lust.

When the acts are complete, I find escape in being hidden and distracted.

For what is progression but awareness?

The cold left

pink marks upon your skin

and the sound of the sky turning 

dark

still frightens you

I wash myself of you 

you become outside of me

and my heart returns to its rhythm 

I have love in all 

colors of jewels 

I wear to my reunification 

It began with a painting of a mirror

and grew to be my return

“to go home is to be with your sisters and brothers.”

I learn their language

to make poems

and speak

Most love

I am without

if it blooms

as I make my way

My mother wrote love letters 

to me as a child

I kept them

Though they have no meaning

amongst the letters of her death

•

My love for You

is my love for myself

I

Where did you learn your language?

I ask this if those who speak like the song of birds

or those who speak my first language

II

In your home

there are dates

I cannot eat

with a stomach

so empty

III

Not becoming, it is

contentment in the mind

In Jerusalem

I am as I close my eyes

and pray to You

How different would it be to exist

if the right half of the body covered the left?

If instead of two sides, there was one side that became the shadow?

If instead of two halves, there was only one made known of the body?

When your body is soft

my body becomes soft

and of honey I am

melting

for you

When your body is raw

my body becomes raw

and of caves I am

abandoning

you

In the passage of time

it may be lost

Whether it lives by the gates

or at the center of the stone

There will always be

Love here

בשפה שלי שאני לא מדברת

אני שוכחת יותר ויותר

In my language I do not speak

I forget more and more

I speak an ancient language

It is revived

each time amen is said

While eating fruits

Or looking

at my garden

Even the poet

in Jerusalem

speaking about language

in nighttime barefoot

could not tell me

the meaning of the soul