I, She



Her curly hair also rings out
in laughter
muffled
by a constant expectation
of death

These
girls
women
mothers
soldiers
breasts undulating
wondering like me, which predator
roves the length of a thigh
the sway of our hips
lusting

Maybe she too does fret
whats too small
too big
too low
too thick...
does this color suit me?
what lotion for a painful skin rash should i get?
and how will we afford
end of the month
food shopping
how will my new proposal at work be met?

In smiles to strangers
hustling
bustling
in days stolen one by one
does she also
turn corners, eyes shut
breath held in waiting
for the next
the final explosion
for suffering

Does she
at night, turn in soft cries
to lovers
daughters
embracing souls for a harbor
in noise
or maybe the silence
scares her into whispering

In line for her pedicure appointment
at the checkout aisle
magazines to occupy
while Jennifer beams out at her
hair shining
does she ever think of me?
my distance
my absence
her presence in homes
that are tombstones of my future
my present constant battling
does she wonder
what i named my children
unborn
unnamed
displaced before conception
cursed into a life of traveling


I trust she hears somewhere
my howling
my wailing
my heart singing to the beaches of Haifa
her gentle waves around my thighs
does she shiver to the breeze
of Nazareth mornings
in my sighs
the winding magic of Jerusalem still in my eyes?

When she cries
hollers out the loss
of limbs
lovers
a son
a clear sky...
when she pierces the distance between us
with her hate
her submission to an imagined fate
does she meet my gaze steady
level
all my hate
meeting hers across enemy lines
drawn
in their lies

She, who could have been my
sister
cousin
best friend
lover
whose arms i would have held in comfort
and
when sobs racked her
i could have swallowed
gathering tight
her emanating need to be touched
in many hugs
and kisses that followed
her brow smoothed
her eyes less turbulent
after being
jilted
cornered
lonely and loveless...
my heart could have stretched in tenderness
appeased
all the helplessness

And i cant help wonder
if she misses that
across the few miles of fences
and wire
guarded by dragons
and a history of
fire
a few steps between her soul
and my home,
my new home and
her death...do you feel how close
we are
in the blackened air
of defensive violence?
does she hear my screech break her impossible silence?


And,
i wonder if she knows
her self
her being
her home
her name
perched on the grave of mine
her voice always unsteady in shame
thriving on blood my mother shed in vain
growing out of my
fathers clenched fist
his tireless work
to resist
does she know her identity
obliterates mine
and
therefore
her sympathy
her empathy
her extended hand
her wilted offering of an olive branch
all that
all her self denial
all her reason
her claiming victim hood
blaming the world for treason
all her wailing to the Mediterranean sun
to heal our wounds
to make us live as one
all her tears to turn Tiberias
into a sea
to capture my smile,
to garner my love,
all of that,
all of it
means nothing to me.