olive and keffiyeh

i had an olive tree
branches of which
reached out to the mediterranean

i was a keffiyeh
salty, tired and sweaty
in my lands

they opened the doors
to remotes
then curtains were off

i had a country
my hands are reaching ahead to it

i am a rebellious keffiyeh now
hugging all winds of the
mediterranean

i am listening to the sound of Jerusalem

on my olive trees:
blood spots... blood spots

Kivanc
March 15, 2010
Jerusalem