Palestinian Village
On the hill in the village, you can chock
the wheels of your vegetable cart
with a stone your grandfather once used
to crush the thyme. Or smash garlic with a
stone your grandmother used as a doorstop.
You can lounge
on a wicker chair near a pomegranate tree,
where a canary never tires of singing.
You can dig a hole with your hands
and find an earthworm breathing
the freshness of soil revived by yesterday's rain.
You can make tea with sage or mint.
If a neighbor or a passerby smells it,
an invitation to join is extended.
You put more cups on your table,
you walk to the garden and pick
more fresh sage or more mint.
~
For a Moment
Her small body rides in my arms
as I run to the hospital.
There is no electricity
and the inner hallways are
a forest lined with cots.
The girl I carry
is dead.
O know that.
The pressure of the explosion
tore apart her thin veins.
I know she is dead,
but everyone who sees us
runs after us.
You are alive
for a moment,
when living people
run after you.
__________________
Mosab Abu Toha
Forest of Noise
Knopf 2024
