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.
Adapted from my May 18, 2006 Arabic diary below. It was primarily written in Arabic verse, for Haya. I revised the English version using AI on October 6, 2024.
DAMASCUS –
On Baghdad Street we stood that day,
the rain weighed heavy on my coat.
I watched you with my whole being,
waiting—begging—for a note,
a mercy in the way you’d turn,
a softening I hoped to earn.
Written in Arabic in November 2005. This English version is an adaptation created with the assistance of AI. The original poem follows.
Image by NEOSiAM 2024+
Damascus —
To you, my lady—
with flowers I write my greeting clear.
I love to start all love with flowers,
and even wars with flowers here;
for flowers, to me, are the spine of courage,
the quiet core of what is dear.
(Originally written as “to my first love”) — This poem was written in November 2005 as a love letter and breakup letter to my first girlfriend. The English version is a faithful adaptation of the original Arabic poem, with the help of AI. The original Arabic text appears below.
Damascus —
Because words get lost,
and talk keeps branching wide,
and every time it branches,
the goal drifts farther aside.
Because history gets written,
I chose to fall silent—
and write.
Roumani Line 