Dry, chilly wind, cold, shivering, walking,
On a hill, panting, tired, carrying loads,
Target: another hill, far but not terribly,
Migrating, like birds, seasonal, it is snowing.
Like nomads, Bedouins, but not a desert.
On a field, snow-covered grass, no oases,
A rabbit follows, sometimes two, I walk,
Now uphill, more tiresome, more pauses.
Fingers numb, pain as sharp as needles,
I am this Life’s patient, no complaints,
Patience, no cure, I have faith, a Muslim,
An Arab, carrying my name, voice, and mind.
Friday, 9thof March 2012