From the Sky

Sara Abou Rashed

After Lorca

When I die,
bury me in the sky—
no one is fighting over it.

Children are playing soccer
with empty bomb shells
(from the sky I can see them).

A grandmother is baking
her Eid makroota and mamoul
(from the sky I can taste them).

Teens are writing love letters
under an orange tree
(from the sky I can read them).

Soldiers are cocking new rifles
at the checkpoint
(from the sky I can hear them).

Under fire, death and water
are brewing in the kitchen
(from the sky I can smell them!).

When I die, bury me in the sky,
I said, for now, it is quiet—
no one owns it and no one is claiming to.

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Source: Source. About the poet. Photo: © Getty Images
AWIP: http://www.a-w-i-p.com/index.php/poetry/2024/01/03/winter-stars