For Anas

I would lay grass blade
end to grass blade, end over
end to the water,
if it would help me comprehend
just how much of a single thing
it takes to reach from here
to the maritime between us.

On reaching there, I would
lay driftwood to driftwood,
step across turtle shells
and walk the length of the Atlantic,
if it could make me understand
that the wheeling Earth under the sun
is just one world despite its size.

I would count the footsteps
left on the shore of the sea
at the middle of the Earth
until the beach of Tel Aviv,
and crawl through olive groves
to meet you.

But when I reach
the graffiti-covered wall
and its soldiers,
after my skin was tanned
and stretched taut
against my weary bones
by my repeated steps to you,
will I be able
to understand what it is
to be caged in?