I Didn’t Apologise To The Well

Mahmoud Darwish

I didn't apologize to the well as I passed by it. 
I borrowed a cloud from an ancient pine and squeezed it 
like an orange. I waited for a mythical white deer. 
I instructed my heart in patience: Be neutral, as though 
you were not a part of me. Here, good shepherds 
stood on air and invented the flute and enticed 
mountain partridges into their traps. Here, I saddled 
a horse for flight to my personal planets, and flew. 
And here, a fortuneteller told me: Beware of asphalt roads 
and automobiles, ride on your sigh. Here, I loosened 
my shadow and waited. I selected the smallest stone 
and stood wakefully by it. I broke apart a myth 
and got broken myself. I circled the well until
I flew out of myself to what I'm not. And a voice 
from deep in the well spoke to me: This grave 
is not yours. And so I apologized. I read verses 
from the wise Qur'an and said to the anonymous presence 
in the well: Peace be with you and the day 
you were killed in the land of peace and with the day 
you'll rise from the well's darkness 
and live…

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Youth's poetry ignites my quest, Against oppression, I protest. In Palestine's struggle, voices rise, For freedom, peace, justice, my cries.
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