Thursday, August 28, 2025

Nostalgia

 لماذا غادرتِ قلبي فارغًا،

مثل كوبٍ بلاستيكي مخمور، على طاولةٍ تَحِنُّ إلى مكانِها كجذع شجرة؟


منذ أن غادرتِ،

وأنا بحاجة إلى حبلٍ يربطني بالحياة، 

وإن كان باليًا، 

أو أملٍ أتكأ عليه، 

وإن كاذبًا.


أملٌ أن تخرجي من التاريخ إلى الجغرافيا، 

لتعودي كنورسٍ 

يبحث عن شاطئ دافئ للشتاء.


عندما تعودين، 

سيخرج الإسكندر من مقبرته 

ليضيء لشراعك الفنار، 

ويرينا كيف يحفظ أنوبيس  المومياوات في سراديب، 

وكيف يحفظ الصيادون أسماكهم في الثلج والملح، 

وكيف يحاول الإنسان تثبيت الزمن 

والإمساك بالأرض عن الدوران.


ستخلع المدينة الظلام 

لتبهر عشاقها 

بجسد لم تنحته عوامل التعرية.


سيقابل سان ستيفانو سيدي جابر 

ليناقشا إن كان خلود الآخرة

للروح فقط أم للجسد أيضا.


أما أنا، 

فسوف آخذ إجازة من التفكير فيك، 

لأرى جمال الأخريات، 

فكيف لأم أن تبتهج بأطفال يركضون في الحديقة، 

إذا كان ابنها مشلولا.



Why did you leave my heart empty, Like a drunken plastic cup, On a table yearning for its place as a trunk of a tree?

Since you left,
I’ve been looking for a rope to tether me to life,
Even if it’s frayed,
Or a hope to lean on,
Even if it's false.

A hope that you would step out of history into geography,
To return like a seagull
Searching for a warm shore for the winter.

When you return,
Alexander will rise from his tomb
To light the lighthouse for your ship,
And show us how Anubis preserves mummies in Catacombs,
How fishermen preserve their catch in salt and ice,
And how man tries to freeze time
And stop the Earth from rotating.

The city will shed its darkness,
Dazzling its lovers
With a body untouched by erosion.

San Stefano will meet Sidi Gaber
To discuss if the eternal life is
For only spirits, or bodies too.

And I?
I will take a break from thinking of you,
To finally see the beauty in others.
For how can a mother rejoice in children running in the park,
When her child is paralyzed?
……… (San Stefano is a Coptic saint and Sidi Gaber is a Muslim scholar. There are two neighborhoods in their names in Alexandria.)



Saturday, April 16, 2022

Do not Come



O my dream,
         Do not incarnate. 
O my thought, 
         Do not be certain.
O my child,
         Do not be born.
O my word,
         Do not be pronounced.

Be as you are,
          A hope we chase, 
         But never catch,
         It never bores us.
Be an idea in the sky, 
        About men wrestling with gods.
Be a legend in an unfulfilled epic. 
Be a song,
        In the mouths of the poor.
        Like a piece of sugar,
        And melt in the bitterness of our life.
Be an ambiguous meaning,
        Raw feeling.
        Rebels against words  
        Defies the lips to pronounce.
Do not be pronounced.
            Lest you will be frustrated.
Do not come close to the earth,
            Lest you will be burnt .
Do not come close,
            Lest you will be far.
Do not come,
          Lest you will be gone.



Friday, November 13, 2020

Escaping Yourself

 Your spirit crumbles

On the journey of the Great Escape

From yourself.

You change countries and women more than you change shoes.

Every country you crossed,

          Takes a sample of your blood

           And gives you a souvenir.

Every woman you hugged,

           Nibbles a piece of your spirit

           And gives you a memory.

You finally arrived,

Without a spirit,

To nothing.

Wednesday, October 14, 2020

Love in the Time of Corona

 

When we shook hands for the first time,

My heart removed his mask,

And rolled over your hand, 

Like an anchor.

I leaned down,

Like a ship that never docked.

I wished all days are pandemic, 

And we quarantine together. 

Forever.

....

I did not love you because you are perfect. 

I know you struggle, like everyone who cares.

Like everyone who chooses to open both eyes.

And tries to connect both sides.

Body and spirit.

Physical and metaphysical. 

Outside and inside.

Ambition and contentment. 

...

I jump and clap when you are able to connect both. 

And hug you when you fail.

Do not whip your spirit, 

If it could not be free from the burdens of your body.

This struggle strengthens you.

Beautifies you.

Keeps you alive,

Makes you human.

...

I wish 

I am happy, not a poet. 

You are my wife, not my muse, 

And we have a baby, not a poem.

But I did not love you in exchange for loving me

I do not love you - a selfish love; 

I do not want to pluck your rose.

I just want to come to the park,

Kneel down 

And water it.

Seeing this rose growing washes my soul. 


...

Look! 

Here, you are, 

At the gates of death, 

You kiss the entrants, 

And advise them to forget you.

....

Oh, merciful virus!

Without love,

Life is worth losing.

.... 

When you came, I did not pull you.

When you left, I did not hold you.

You took your berth, 

And ran away,

With my anchor.

....

Because my love is unconditional; I forgive you. 

Even I do not see anything needs to be forgiven.

Rather, I see everything deserves to be loved.

...

I am not Samson.

Take my hair off my head.

I keep your temple for my prayer.

Take your clothes off my closet. 

I keep your space in my heart.

Take your body off my hands.

I keep your spirit in my soul.

Take your pictures off my phone.

I keep your image in my mind.

Take your books off my shelves.

I keep your voice in my ears.

...

Take whatever you want

You cannot take my love off my heart.

It is my love, not yours.

I will keep it.

I will protect it from your attempts to ruin everything.

Where do you get all this cruelty?

...

I need history to back up my present moment. 

I need a memory to sweeten my bitter days. 

I need to prove to myself. 

Love is possible!



Saturday, September 12, 2020

Do they worth?



 Oh, how cruel the world is

when you do not face anything,

wherever you turn your eyes to,

except just a back.

...
If you do not have this human brain,
Their knee would not be on your neck.
Your teeth would not disgust them,
And your claws would not scare them.
You would find someone reach you with a smile,
Bow to you,
Stretches his arm softly,
To pat your back
Or to give you a hug.
...
Should you put your brain under your feet to gain them?
Do they worth?



It is not love!

 Actually, we do not love people.

We just love the images we draw of them.

When the frame of these images get tight for them, they pass.

We call them fake, liars, fickle or cheaters.

Oh, Pygmalion!

Do you call the river cheater when it floods?

Do you call the plant lair when it grows?



We cannot love in a week, a month, or even a year.
Love needs problems, crises, fatigue, long familiarization, hard periods and difficult situations to be real.
In short, love begins when excitement ends.
You cannot love the ocean while you are on the beach.
You have to swim on the water, fight the waves, taste the salty water, injure your leg with rocks, and see the darkness at the seabed.
When you will return to the beach, you will see the ocean differently.
You would not see it as an ideal.
You have seen its faults, darkness and anger.
At this time, you can hate it or continue love it with everything in it.
Enthusiasm of the beginnings is not love.
Whoever did not dive in the ocean, he never loved it!



Friday, September 11, 2020

The just pandemic

 It is a weird point of human history.

There is an intense energy.

We could neither rise above it nor be in it.

It is a journey.

suck it up and be kind to yourself and others.

It is not about me or you only.

It is everybody everywhere.

The pandemic does not discriminate.

Everyone is going through the same depression and frustration.

Now only, we started to value meeting each other.

It seems like we ran away from God and He wants us to stop.

He wants us to kneel down for some reason.

It seems like we do not have another option.

We have to hold each other’s hand and kneel down together.

We have to hold each other and cry.





Kansas City, September 3rd, 2020