...what was once invisible is now seen...
Alice S. Yousef is a Palestinian translator, blogger, and poet, who has published stories, poetry, and translations. Her work can be found on web-magazines including Twopoetswrite and VisualVerse. She holds a MFA Writing from Warwick University (UK) and is currently working on her first volume of poetry.
The timekeeper watches the swallows return
After forty five days I begin to wonder
is it the weight of the number, entrenched so much
in waiting-
mothers and newborns staying safe from the sun
hermits in silence
Jesus' steps on the Mount of Temptation
but
I am not a mother, the cat is always hungry
the silence is broken by birdsong
and the Mount of Temptation leaves me with devils
I keep time
in small moves
without pressing too tightly
Day 1
A 'state of emergency' is declared
the radio says, 'contain' as in control
and I fear the word:
the streets empty like a curfew had broken their feet
one I had seen too often in my childhood
Day 5
'lockdown' is announced
while friends fear loss of water
my mother reassures me
the last time we were locked in at home
an open-air balcony, my father boiled chickpeas
to make hummus and we planted roses and green tea
in a 4x4 meter yard
Day 10
My window overlooks
a sole broken-backed spine of a pine
the 'morning briefing' is now a common habit,
but I let the news find me, forty-seven diagnoses later
I type away the days on my computer
emails to friends who only have dogs for company
Day 15
Death steals, the Book of Revelations'
locusts and turned seas pour in the neighborhood
death steals my words too-
from behind the fence all I can yell to a friend is:
may your husband rest in peace
I am sorry I cannot hug you
Day 20
I turn between the books and the screens
check my temperature, check my breathing
I never wondered about the human body
its functions how holy, its desire how unholy
except living in the holiest city of all:
the gateway to both heaven and hell
Day 25
the words change meaning-
running in circle becomes a physical need
what was once invisible is now seen;
as in I love you, says please stay
as in did you wash your hands? says please be careful
as in how are you today? says I hope you are still breathing
the world turns upside down when you smile behind a mask
Day 30
The church bells don't stop ringing,
in Jerusalem, the church bells announce the hour, death and joy-
through Zoom I can watch the Easter mass
but I cannot smell the incense
Day 35
The sky clears up, hawks, the sunbird, crows appear like magic
new migrant birds
commonly called the Indian bulbul
sing at odd hours
the only other buzz is the invisible drone
Day 40
I should have written more
spoke less, observed the world
I should have sent kisses to the children
who had no bed sheets to sleep on
I should have worried less,
kept to time, prayer and yoga breath
I should have finished the plate of food
before complaining about stale bread
Day 45, today
The golden hour is six thirty,
another day ticks off, unbalanced
the city prepares to sleep, like a four-year-old brushing his teeth, forgetting dinner
at four years I could tell them uniquely by flight, my birds
a spilt tail, whizz, a running heart like mine
the swallows always return to warm-hearted lands
the swallows in the heights,
my security.