Thank you all for meeting me here, where the ocean meets the sand.
Cup some water in your hand, percolate into the land.
I had a dream last night it all disappeared.
Look around for pictures of home, draw the details of a smile.
I have stared into the Nile, stored its liquid in a vial,
Less like water, more like bile.
How can we trust their memories can be cloned?
Scenes and stages, burning pages, I’m my maker’s son.
As fire rages, human cages, I’m my mother’s son.
Stagnant but still running away, she’s deciding how to end,
Where to dry up at the bend, generations on the mend.
How many lives are lost in her wounds?
Sing, O Um-al-Dunya.
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