Monday, January 26, 2015 - 1:49 pm
“Refugee Not Always”
Aziz Our father who was always our father not always our father Refugee not always once a confident schoolboy strolling Jerusalem streets He knew the alleyways spoke to stones All his life he would pick up stones and pocket them On some he drew faces What do we say in the wake of one who was always homesick? Are you home now? Is Palestine peaceful in some dimension we can't see? Do Jews and Arabs share the table? Is holy in the middle?