Oleaceae

As I drink the fruit you once plucked from your trees
I hear your notes chirping to the sound of the mosque,
And I remember why I am here.

Sitting alone by your trees, thanking you silently.
For my roots are the constant visions in your mind
They are the words you speak- the melody
On the tip of your tongue
They are the soil I walk on
Escorted by your memoir as I pray to capture every detail
And back by your side retrace the steps we overlapped on.

When I sit by your sea and look at your stars
I wish I could give you my eyes.
I smell the flower of our homes
Planted by your side
Perfuming my every move.

And somewhere between here and there
I’ll find your Jasmine wing
As it hangs by your city’s door
Vow of your fragmented return.

-Nada El-Omari