Tashriqa

 

I will come to Homs shortly,

I will enter it safely,

protected by its people and

my faith in them.

For almost twenty years

of absence, obsession and delusion.

for twenty years

abandoned at its crossroads

the guards overwhelmed me with weapons

I did not see

tore at me with weapons

I did not see,

but I will come to the city

any way she accepts me.

Wouldn’t this city buy me

even for a few herbs, spices, welcomes?

I will come to this city even as a refugee

if the meaning of refuge has changed,

deleted from its old dictionary.

But how would I create a dictionary of Homs?

When I have no Imam whose prayers could

remove my doubt,

but I have a God

for whom I recite his verses privately

until dawn reveals the city's face,

when the dawn tells us:

You are safe of whatever you say or don't,

believers and nonbelievers,

for all those who lit up its promises

with candles in their fingers

so the city can see its tomorrow, our people.

Homs, whose mother is Syria,

is above all suspicions. 

I will come to Homs alone,

I will come to her with love and affection,

It's Homs which baptized me 

and Islamized me.

It is only fitting I belong to her.

A thousand loves, sorrows, and a river of memories,

for her to recover and for me to heal.