We used to write only at midnight ,
Now there’s no difference at morning light,
Because the sun was only in our hearts ,
And we lost it with our hearts ,
And she saw the light ,
Then she took it with her ,
So it’s fine in the morning light ,
At least it’s beyond the sight ,
Where we don’t belong to ,
Because she took it with her ,
Our last resort of a shoulder ,
You can write at the morning light ,
It’s fine now ,
You don’t have to fight .
My grandma loved gardens ,
And to peel pomegranate for us too ,
She loved picking trees ,
And fields of her only in the frame ,
But now how can i feel ,
Or cry ,
When she can’t peel or pick anymore ,
And i can’t seek another goal ,
Just to get it back ,
The dark ages of mine ,
Where we could go to the trees ,
Without guns pointed at us ,
She can’t peel pomegranate anymore ,
Because guns are pointed at us ..
She can’t go to the fields anymore ,
Where she stood alone ,
Because you see my grandma loved walking ,
And where she walked to ,
She would pick from the trees ,
My grandma loved picking ,
But now how can she ?
When only one leg was left below her knees ?
And how can i keep running ,
With my grandma without her knees ?
And how can i stop running ?
When i can’t even cry ,
Even if i try ,
Because my lover wasn’t quite known to crying ,
But i was ,
And now I’m not quite known to crying ,
Only when i remember her ,
And the light left with her ,
As my grandma hope with the field..
And if i could i would ,
Give her both my legs if i could ,
Legs that holds my life right now ,
From not ending , from not falling apart ,
But i would fall for her ,
If it means she’d pick fig and jujube again ,
As i fell for the sun before ,
The one that told me she’d peel oranges by her hands ,
The hands that grabbed the light ,
And took it away with her.
zaki monzer 