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