Poetry: Ashraf AboArafe
Since the dawn of time…
You arrived like a lover carrying longing in your open hands,
Running toward the beloved.
You filled the waist of the earth with silt and life,
Fertilizing the womb of the soil with your eternal passion.
You poured life’s rhythm into her flesh,
And the mangoes burst with sweetness,
While the aroma of the first bread filled the clay oven—
Like a first kiss shared between river and earth.
Then came the wall…
They built the High Dam across the heart of your union,
A barrier between your chest and the arms of your beloved.
They forbade the silt from touching her body,
Severing the fertility from your desperate embrace.
And so, the water began to pass over her cold…
Stripped of the silt’s desire,
Void of the warmth of creation.
And today… on the ninth of Mesori,
The earth complains of dryness despite the abundance of stream,
Yearning for that ancient fertilization,
Aching for the taste of fruits once birthed by your touch.
The dam banned the flood…
Yet it stole the honey from the lips of the trees,
Leaving the Nile an imprisoned lover,
Crossing his banks like a ghost that never tires of fidelity,
Mourning his captive silt behind the stone.
And in August… on your timeless anniversary,
You stand at the threshold of the promised hour,
Knocking on the doors of the soil as on the night of the flood,
Whispering: “I am the past… I am the devotion that never dies.”
You weep at her gates over your longing,
And the deep roots of the earth tremble with desire,
Calling back to you from behind the granite:
“Come to me… even if with water bare of silt,
For in your breath lies the fragrance of love,
And in your faithfulness… lives our soul.”
