Burial Ground

I am found hidden, snug among the truffles                                                     Growing under the footsteps of Bedouins.

I am found staring down
At the Temple of Eshmun.

I am found sitting on the oil spills,
The rubble,
The rotting fruit.

Sometimes I have lived a thousand lives.

Sometimes I have never breathed
Outside of my mother’s suffocating belly.

I have lived my mother’s life,
My life,
And my daughter’s life.

I have heard about my mother
In her white dress,
Smile smeared red,
The corners frowning,
The bombs bouncing and bursting.

I have heard about the feet of soldiers
Soiled and kicking.

Women praying on cracked skin.

I have touched the television screen to feel the explosions.
To hear the earth screaming.
To see my reflection against a black screen.

I have held my father’s hand,
and shortly after,
My husband’s.

I have seen my daughter stretch in blood,
In pajama shorts.
In silk nightgowns.

I have seen my mother love me;
When she sold her wedding ring to feed me.
When she hit me after I refused to eat.
When she slept in my bed after I left her.

I have seen my daughter love me;
When she rests her head on my stomach.
When she kisses each of my fingers.
When she buries me.                                                                                              Among the truffles.