Passport
They did
not recognize me in the shadows
That suck
away my color in this Passport
And to them
my wound was an exhibit
For a
tourist Who loves to collect photographs
They did
not recognize me,
Ah... Don't
leave
The palm of
my hand without the sun
Because the
trees recognize me
Don't leave
me pale like the moon!
All the
birds that followed my palm
To the door
of the distant airport
All the
wheatfields
All the
prisons
All the
white tombstones
All the
barbed Boundaries
All the
waving handkerchiefs
All the
eyes
were with
me,
But they
dropped them from my passport
Stripped of
my name and identity?
On soil I
nourished with my own hands?
Today Job
cried out
Filling the
sky:
Don't make
and example of me again!
Oh,
gentlemen, Prophets,
Don't ask
the trees for their names
Don't ask
the valleys who their mother is
>From my
forehead bursts the sward of light
And from my
hand springs the water of the river
All the
hearts of the people are my identity
So take
away my passport!
Mahmoud Darwish
