No Land for Passersby

Poet: Anwar Alkhatib

Don’t search for glory in the train of the displaced

Don’t confide in the land beneath them

There is no land for passersby

nor carrier pigeons, nor library

They have torn notebooks

with mended lines upon which they write their poems

and memories with which they burden the wind

Don’t search for desire in their eyes

There is no room in them for longing

Everyone carries his mother,

his father’s will,

his lover’s handkerchief

and a bit of nostalgia

There is no land for passersby

Don’t search for them on the airport runways

They are deeply affected by the Immigration and Customs Officers

Before the names on the houses, a choking befalls them

and much despair

They avert their eyes from the gathering of families in parks

Tales of fires captivate them

They mock the flags

and walk alone

so their features fade in the crowd

For some are departing and others are left behind

In memory of defeats

I mean everyday, they write:

We are returning…

Then they drink until drunk