On the pavement of age
We have left the fields as birds' horns when they leave their nests. We have left them as coffins and fossils in the shadows of memory, but we certainly will not leave our dreams until we see them as bright as the songs.
We abandoned our schools and yards but we will not give up the smell of our school suspended in our cilia like the moonlight. We left young pupils on their school desks looking for a wet face and eyes guided by the path of salvation. We left the alleys of our homes dry and desolate, overwhelmed by stupidity waiting for our feet to print the kisses of every neighborhood ... n. We left our sturdy trees as a team without owners. We let the grandmothers receive her abuse telling her stories stacked under their tongues to the walls of silence. We left the cries of the mothers after every prayer like the fall of joy in the eyes of the martyrs and the saints. We left the elderly as old goods on a forgotten shelf. We left our children when they slept and opened their eyes and found only our dark pictures hanging on the walls. We left the smell of incense and the taste of coffee in the winter hovering around the warmth of the fireplaces looking for someone who shines a fire of surprise.
Well we apologize:
From every terrified bird we followed with our stones, we smashed his nest, smashed his innocence with the claws of our residences from all the trees that we cut their smiling branches in the face of the wind.
From each bread pie, we insulted it before it matured, because we robbed it.
Of all our teachers who burned their nerves to see us in the highest.
To our names that we have denied time and time before strangers to give them more harm.
To the pigeon we slaughtered with a damaged knife to discover where the eggs are hiding inside, but we only found a chest trembling with pain.
Of the Palm, whose limbs were broken in search of dates, but we could only find the wind to compensate for its integrity.
From a bird, we defied his innocence in search of the singing machine in his throat, but we could only find the remnants of the whining in his throat.
I think of the fields that give us fruit without shaking the tree of certainty in our minds, in the teacher standing behind the blackboard giving sermons with tolerant eyes without even chasing us back.
I think in a conventional way how the globe does not hit any huge space object and we fly like cotton balls in the air.
I'm thinking of forgetting the pain as quickly as any foreign song, to avoid the big, trumped-up people like the empty carts that make that noise and when everything stops, everything goes down.
It is not too hard to hear a loud song for Fayrouz in the morning so someone will interrupt you by saying that that sound beats me.
As if a girl stopped you in the street and said to you: "When you spray this perfume on your clothes, you will injure my fasting."
If one of the taxi drivers stops you, he will not ask you where the street is going, and tell him that this is what Fermi is standing against in your face because you are deceiving him and leaving.
[Source picture](http://ecleneue.com/hgB)
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