O, beat me more.
Hit me with your sticks;
Step on my leaves
Smother my twigs under your boots
Like how you always do.
The beating I bear;
The humiliation, I do not care
But take me not,
Steal me not.
Even if I burn,
Here I belong
And to them I shall return.
***
If you hear my talk,
You may feel my pain
But you belong not here:
You do not even know
How to touch me,
How to gently squeeze me,
How to hug me,
How to wipe off the dust,
When I am ripe,
And when I am not,
When I need water,
And when I do not,
And how to pick me
Like how they always do.
***
Your smell and heavy boots
And the metal on your backs
And your metal bars!
For God’s sakes who on earth olives picks
With metal bars for sticks?
***
But I ramble again.
Because you won’t understand
And if you understood me,
You would not, in the first place,
Be here.
***
You come and go.
I see you once or twice a year
With either flames or sticks
And I weep for the rest of the year.
But one day
My twigs shall grow,
The oil shall flow,
My people shall glow,
And you, you will go.
- Refaat Alareer
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