Poetry: Ashraf AboArafe
The poem was born of imagination, and a translation of history’s testimony, Istanbul’s landmarks Court those of Cairo.
The Pyramids of Giza:
You are late…
I have stood here since time was an idea,
counting human footsteps,
never aging.
Hagia Sophia:
I am not late.
I was learning how to change
without losing my name.
Some love
requires more than one life.
Al-Azhar:
Lower your voices…
When words rise too high,
they forget their meaning.
I taught stone
how to listen,
and the heart
not to fear the question.
Galata Tower:
And I
stood for a long while
guarding absence,
counting ships
and envying those who arrive.
Waiting
is not weakness—
it is another form of devotion.
The Nile:
Do not disagree.
Love that does not pass through water
remains dry.
I carried their faces
one by one,
and I still smile.
The Bosphorus:
And I
split the continents
so no heart would feel confined.
Everyone who crossed me
left something behind…
and took wonder.
The Pyramids:
Tell me—
do they still lift their eyes
when they pass by you?
Hagia Sophia:
They do…
then forget their names for a moment.
And that
is the most beautiful victory.
Al-Azhar:
Then we agree:
we do not own humanity.
We only
remind them
that they
were here.
Galata:
Come closer…
Nothing separates us
but an ancient call.
The Nile and the Bosphorus (together):
Two cities,
two stones,
and a history
falling in love
once again.
—
A Citadel from above:
From here
I watched cities grow,
quarrel,
then return as children
when fear arrived.
Guarding
is not a sword,
but an eye
that never sleeps.
A Mosque washing the morning:
I washed the day
with my minarets
so prayer would not be lost
in the crowd.
Serenity
needs order
to remain whole.
An old market:
Come closer…
Memories are sold here
free of charge.
A laugh,
a rosary,
a story
that never finished its sentence.
True trade
is the exchange of longing.
Another market, a little farther:
I taught footsteps
how to lose their way
to find themselves.
In narrow passages,
hearts grow wide.
Cairo (for the first time):
I do not tire of visitors.
I tire only
of those who pass
without greeting the heart.
Istanbul:
And I forgive passersby
if they pause for a moment
and listen.
Cities ask for little—
a touch of listening
is enough.
The Pyramids (softly):
Do we differ, sister?
Hagia Sophia (a smile of stone):
We differ
as night differs from dawn—
not in essence,
but in timing.
The Nile:
Then let water be the witness.
The Bosphorus:
And let the bridge be the promise.
All (one whisper):
We are not stones.
We are living memory.
When called,
we answer.
Two cities,
two hearts,
and a love
unseen…
yet
heard.
