by Mishka Mojabber Mourani
And she who waits in vain for the return of an emigrant son
And she who goes abroad taking her city with her;
And she who lays her head on the steering wheel caught in the tentacles of a Beirut
traffic jam;
And she who looks at her watch yet again and waits for the result of her pelvic
exam;
And she whose stethoscope examines an anxious old man;
And she who is told that her child inherits her blood but not her nationality;
And she who plays soccer with her older brother and lets him win;
And she who counts wedding anniversaries that didn’t happen;
And she who left her two-year-old son in the care of her sister in a Philippine
village;
And she who waits for the school bus, her book bag as heavy as her teenage
heart;
And she who, surprised, discovers her mother
And she who, surprised, discovers she has become her mother;
And she who sips sweet lemonade fragrant with orange blossoms by the sea;
And she who jogs mercilessly impervious to the sumptuous Mediterranean;
And she who delves into the palm of her hand to look for her errant destiny;
And she who is surprised that her lover of twenty years ago can still hurt her;
And she who applies a mask to her face to erase the wrinkles of her soul;
And she who waters the riotous jasmine blooms in winter on her sun-soaked
balcony;
And I who have known them all
And I who have been them.
Last updated September 02, 2011