Waiting at customs, thank fuck we’re here.
By contrast the transit lounge in Beirut
is full of assholes who love to fuck
with a Palestinian refugee and his brown passport,
even when he’s leaving their country
doing just what they want.
He sits in the heaps of rubble and dirt,
Watching the scene unfold in his mind’s eye -
Each time feeling the fear, pain and the hurt.
His throat tightens, and he tries not to cry.
I am Chasing Gods and the whispers of the poor
Watching sorrows decay and others come to life
Anticipating a young rain to give me an ancient wisdom
A fresh death between my hands, a foreign land,
And a hope waiting behind locked doors
Butter, what an innocent word
delicious, its delicately served
in a crêpe, with some ham
Oh no! Watch out!
But never do we mix
in the plate, we eat it