I am soaked in you,
Like an old white rag drenched in murky waters.
I wring myself,
Hoping to watch you drip.
Or lend out your musk to warm daylight.
But I am saturated.
Like an arrogant fruit,
I dry myself under burning stars,
waiting for you to be swept away, and preserve what is left.
But you refuse to disintegrate,
Clinging to my skin.
---
Perhaps you are soaked in me;
I am the water and you are the resin.
Perhaps it is me who has to transpire,
And leave your accumulation behind.
But I am destined to wait for the moonlight;
The sun does not dare approach.
Contributor
Tala El-Issa
Tala El-Issa is a Jordanian journalist who is currently producing Blank Maps, a storytelling podcast that tackles statelessness in the MENA region.
