(Bullet in a Glass. Photo by aa)

memory fragments imagined (1)

Haifa and the Sea

An embrace transpired as the moment takes us under its wings. The gaze becomes the sermon of our hearts. We hear nothing but our breathing competing — yet in harmony with the deafening banging of the close and the distant shelling.

How we yearn for a peaceful moment; how we indulge in the pieces of our moment. The body touches the body. The coffee pot tips over, creating a painting out of the stovetop.

No war could take away this moment from us. Love becomes a poetic system of signs; a silencer to the collective madness beyond these walls.

The body is motionless; beyond bound. A choice we never had. A simple choice being imposed. We both know to start, means the end. We fear the inevitable. We fear the (un)known that resides in both our hearts. I want to walk away; delete every reference to your name; and send my heart to sleep. I cannot love two of you at the same time. I chose none. I burn your photo and let it drown in the sediment of my last cup.

If only you could smell the aroma! It takes me back to the streets of Beirut, where art is coffee, and coffee is a way of life. I give you the key to my imaginary home in Haifa, where, they say, the city married the sea to be then kidnaped and raped by other assumed lovers. She screamed to deaf ears. She does, still.

The sea departed with us. If only it swallowed me before I met you that first time. Before the dream became a nagging vivid nightmare.