My Grandfather and Home by Mosab Abu Toha

                                     i 

my grandfather used to count the days for return with his fingers
he then used stones to count
not enough
he used the clouds birds people

absence turned out to be too long

thirty-six years until he died

for us now it is over seventy years 

my grandpa lost his memory

he forgot the numbers the people 

he forgot home 

                                            ii

i wish i were with you grandpa

i would have taught myself to write you

poems volumes of them and paint our home for you 

i would have sewn you from soil

a garment decorated with plants 

and trees you had grown

i would have made you 

perfume from the oranges 

and soap from the skys tears of joy 

couldnt think of something purer 

                                            iii

i go to the cemetery every day 

i look for your grave but in vain

are they sure they buried you 

or did you turn into a tree 

or perhaps you flew off with a bird to the nowhere

                                            iv

i place your photo in an earthenware pot

i water it every monday and thursday at sunset

i was told you used to fast those days

on ramadan i water it every day

for thirty days 

or less or more 

                                            v

how big do you want our home to be 

i can continue to write poems until you are satisfied 

if you wish i can annex a neighboring planet or two 

                                            vi

for this home i shall not draw boundaries 

no punctuation marks 

Poem from Things You May Find Hidden In My Ear : poems from Gaza by Mosab Abu Toha