I shall write a poem about the Arab displaced people

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?