Adapted from my November 2009 diary, with the help of AI.
The original Arabic poem appears below.
Image by The Lazy Artist Gallery
Homs —
Because you want the stars pulled from the sky,
And honey poured in ears, both low and high—
Each dawn, each dusk, no pause, no “let it be,”
You take too much, give back too little—me.
Adapted from my 2009 diary, originally written as a letter in Arabic to the woman who deeply shaped my life journey. The text was revised and translated into English in December 2025. The original Arabic version is included below.
Eastern Ghouta –
There is no escape from leaving—
this love has thrown us down
into the deep, uncharted unknown.
From you, I’ve worn my hoping thin;
from your impossible love,
I am undone.
Author’s Note
This text is an English adaptation by AI of a poem originally written in Arabic in December 2008, in response to the war on Gaza.
While the poem criticizes the State of Israel for actions widely regarded as violations of human rights and international law, its central condemnation is directed at neighboring Arab regimes—for their complicity, political opportunism, and repeated failure of the Palestinian people. The poem rejects the use of Palestine as a proxy or symbol for regional power games that have little to do with justice, liberation, or genuine solidarity.
All criticism in this text is aimed at states, systems, doctrines, and political conduct, never at peoples, religions, or identities.
Image by Ömer Faruk Yıldız
Eastern Ghouta —
The parting stretched, the nights grew long,
My thoughts in your eyes wandered on.
From where does patience come to meet?
I lost my question at your feet.
Originally written in Arabic in December 2007 and preserved from my personal diary.
This English version is an adaptation with the help of AI.
It is addressed to those I loved and wounded—love remains.
Eastern Ghouta –
To you, I offer my apology—
for my foolishness, my wild delirium,
for all my seas, my endless drifting,
for every turn that carried me away from you.
An extract from my 2007 diary, where I took my first (and only) shot at crafting a Shakespearean sonnet (at al-Baath University in Homs) —revised on 8 October 2024.
Homs –
On a stormy day, along the street,
I walked alone beneath the rain.
The wind, so fierce, swept through my feet,
While in my ears, cold echoed pain.
Roumani Line 