Dear best friend
I hate to heap my burdens on you
Knowing how you tend to wear my problems
On the pages of your face
But here I come again .
I’m scared to the pit of my stomach
Of the violence in our nation .
In fear of travels.,
Lest I’ll be slaughtered like a goat in a country that’s not worth it
I’m scared of eating well, to practice hunger
In case of a future scarcity
I’m scared of spending my last money
Not knowing where the next gift will come from
I’m scared of old age
An indication of a soon exit
Severing me forcefully from my loved ones.
Sometimes I’m not scared
I’m scared to death
Dear best friend,
I am my own burden, not you.
your yoke is always easy to carry
and the wrinkles on my face
are from too much laughter you bring me.
fear is indication that we are still humans
and the violence is a temporary thunderstorm-
soon the clouds would be clear
the city and streets too
and the country, this country
would be worthy again
you’ve already traveled through dance,
mime and pantomime.
there’s peace in traveling now on the wings of books
eat what there is now
tomorrow is mere ill.usion that may never come
hunger and scarcity, you have survived before
there isn’t anything like ‘last money,’ my darling.
come to me and i shall share shekels with you.
give yourself this gift of self you’ve found.
old age is dirt that nature covers us with
when we become old we do not die
we go to the place meant for old people.
death will come when it will
what will be scary to death
will be how ready you get.
you have survived many rivers
you have become the sea.