You Remind Me ( Part 1 )

You remind me of sleep. A nap on the cool tile That makes the heat rush Out of my cheeks In all shades of Red and pink. You remind me of rest. You remind me of the feel of scented blankets. Rough and soft, All at once. Florid but not too flowery, Delicate in all the right amounts. You remind me of lonely laundry men That long for a woman’s Love and ironed sheets. You remind me of home. You remind me of food, lots of food. Too sour for my Eyes to bear while opened. Too sweet for my Belly to accept And mouth to greet without A smile. Too spicy to keep The sense in my ears, And too plain at times. Too blend for my body To comprehend. But you know what they say… You can’t eat the same thing every day. You remind me of God. Sufis spinning round And round with Him Reborn in their faces. Hajj traveler’s huge suitcases. Pure Zamzam water, And rosaries made of beads so green That Mother Nature Bowed down to them. You are my sudden leap of faith. You remind me of sweet melodies. Arab voices that pierced seas And sunk ships. Tunes that blurred out Whatever notes in this unjust life that made no sense to me. You make sense to me. You remind me of Lebanese mothers. Molding poetry with their Own hands while making Kebbeh. Collecting the burdens of the world In small glass jars on their Kitchen shelves, While chopping greens with Knives made of War That chopped their Homeland’s greens. And no I will not forget. I want to stay this way; Happy with my grief, Wearing it around my finger Like it was some sort of Wedding ring I wanted to show Off to this unjust world.