Written in honor of Palestinian Prisoners Day:

Every time I want to write about our happiness,
my pen refuses. I become helpless.
When I desire to write about our love,
I am at a loss for words,
knowing how miserably my people live.
I feel ashamed when I am joyful
while they are gasping for air.
I am satisfied only when depressed,
comfortable only when in pain.
 
When we were together and I wanted to tell you
how warm it was to be in your arms,
my eyes were about to rain…
The fear of losing you killed my smile.
You stared at my fading happiness, my wet eyelashes.
I resisted looking into your eyes so I closed mine
I wanted to mingle my soul with yours.
Shall I? Can you?
Of course.
I believed mornings were good…I said good morning.
You are my morning and the goodness in all mornings,
you said. Like a child, my heart delighted
at your voice and its music—
the accent, your reassuring tone.
 
Why did you do it?
leaving me alone…
I trusted you!
I thought our souls were one…
You told me all mornings were good…
you made me believe that all voices were musical,
hearts delightful,
until they imprisoned you.

They imprisoned your body but not your soul,
not the echo of your voice, not the warmth of your touch.
Thank God, I can live on our memories 
Thank God, I can’t ever forget.
But without you, 
the whole world becomes a prison to me. 
The only feeling that is true anymore
is my feeling of loss. 

I lost you…
I have lost myself!
Have you found me?