by: A displaced person
I sent my soul to hover around my home
As my steps were unable to reach there.
I asked the house where I used to live: Do you still remember us?
Or did you forget the people who left you.
I ask it whether the roof is it still standing…
Glory emblazoning the walls despite what “those” have committed
Or did it kneel, simply praying; subdued by oppression…
Appealing to God with a prayer of sadness.
I ask the palms whether their dates have ripened
I ask the figs and olive trees whether they still have sap,
If burning trees and branches
Are still able to yield ripe fruits?