From a Western Woman to a Middle Eastern One
I wonder when you last noticed autumn
crouched behind walls of sandbags
window enough to fit your rifle through
figs and pomegranates ripening with war
only a sack of soil weighs me down
unlike your burden all of Mecca to shoulder
my rake your shovel
my garden your burial ground
I'll cozy into my car turn up NPR
tune out enough to take in
flowerpots flowing with mums
spiced lattes I'd let you shoot me for
daydreams of slackening your grip
to savor sweet reminders in a dark hush
if only my path could reach you
share forgotten fruits like those
dropped by friends in a flash
how do you distinguish their steps