Bread and salt

Sar fe ben-na khobez w meleh¹

One year and two months—

Spacious fields of wheat and endless skies of white salt 

falling like snow,

making our wounds cleaner and sharper,

albeit more painful. 

Sar fe ben-na khobez w meleh

He says with his northern accent, longer at the end,

Sweet around the edges,

Almost edible like fresh bread sitti used to make on Fridays.

Before she died last May, she told me: 

Be good. Kone mleha².

Did mleha come from meleh? 

Sar fe ben-na khobez w meleh

What good is bread and salt, if there’s no olive oil?

Olive trees, shade, roots, black tarp, omelet sandwiches for breaks

And olive pearls falling like sweet rain that waters our love?

Sar fe ben-na khobez w meleh

That’s how things are, with time. Everything is inevitable. 

Maktob in two nights and one day.

I write so I won’t have it written, I tell him, We’re different.

But we’re also similar by the time the sun sets,

Huddling together, finding home in each other, across the Mediterranean. 

Whispering: 

A home is built with bread and salt.

 

 

¹ There was bread and salt among us

² Be happy