Written on the pages of a diary

In the middle somewhere

Is a name of a person you don’t remember

Doing something you would deny today.


In the shoe you left by the fireplace

To get warm

Or to dry off

Lies a pebble you will discard.


In a country you’ve never heard of

In a region you won’t take the time to look up

Lives a people

With the most beautiful language.


There is a book

وهناك كتاب

Coveted by millions

يطمع بالملايين

Will you ever take a look?

أنني لا أكره

Or will you hate them, and it, because you were told?


There is a woman

That cried herself to sleep

Feeling useless and unimportant

Without anyone to tell her she was wrong.

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