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Belief

Not a main one,
but each time I erase it
I forget my hands over the objects
whose faith
compels their reappearance
on my knuckles.

You are another kind of belief.
It may dominate in the presence of the victim before me
or reach out to the executioner in my heart.
Each case the Monalisa
treats with a smile.

She didn’t fail in her search.
The test of her loss
matures in the belief of her existence.

 

Read more from our series by Palestinian poets.