[Translated by Rana Bitar and Robert Bensen]

1
My son places his coloring kit in front of me
and asks me to draw a bird
I dip the brush in a gray color
and I draw a square with a lock
and rods
My son asks with wonder in his eyes,
“Dad, don’t you know how to draw a bird?”
I say, “Forgive me, son,
I have forgotten the shape of birds”

2
My son places his coloring pencils in front of me
and asks me to draw the sea
I take a pencil, 
and I draw a black circle
My son says,
“But this is a black circle, Dad! 
Don’t you know the sea is blue?”
I say, 
“My son, I used to be good at drawing seas
but they took away my fishing rod and my boat
They prohibited me from conversing with the color blue
and from fishing in the waters of freedom”

3
My son places his drawing notebook in front of me
and asks me to draw a stalk of wheat
I hold a pencil,
and I draw a gun
My son mocks my ignorance in the art of drawing
and says, wondering,
“Don’t you know, Dad, the difference between a stalk of wheat and a gun?”
I say, “My son, in the past, I used to know the shape of wheat stalks
and the shape of a loaf of bread
and the shape of a flower,
but in this iron world
where the forest’s trees join militias
and the roses wear camouflage;
in this time of the armed ears of corn 
and armed birds
and armed religion,
I can’t buy a loaf of bread 
without finding a gun hidden inside it
I can’t pluck a flower from the field
without it raising a weapon in my face
No book I buy from the library
doesn’t explode between my fingers

4
My son sits on the edge of the bed
and asks me to read him a poem
A tear drops from my eyes on the pillow
He catches it in astonishment and says,
“But this is a tear and not a poem, dad!”
I say,
“When you grow up, my son,
and read the volumes of Arabic poetry,
you will know that the word and the tear are sisters
and that the Arabic poem
is but a tear shed from the tips of the fingers”

5
My son places his coloring pencils and coloring kits in front of me
and asks me to draw a country
The brush shakes in my hand
I drop it to the floor 
and I weep for my homeland

Photo by Kristin Brown/Unsplash