Ny Heart, My friend

My heart, my friend

The house stands silent,
its windows like closed eyes,
Yet the grass remembers the footsteps,
And the donkeys graze as if nothing has changed.

It is Damsheka I see there
abandoned once, then returned to as ruins,
a place where walls still whisper,
and absence carries the weight of presence.

Oh, my heart, don’t ask me about love...
That was in that high tower
that fell into ruins.

Some houses are never lost;
they live inside us,
their breath rising each time
A door swings open in memory.

By Hamid Mernissi, June 11, 2023