MY PARENTS WALTZED EVERY MORNING AFTER HEARING THE NEWS // HAYAT

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Ten years ago when we were told to 
hide if we want to keep ourselves and there might be a rocket
huddling our houses to the sky at any time,

My father took us to the beach and we watched
rockets tiptoe beyond the horizon and
clapped when the sirens and the waves
composed a symphony for us.

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When my grandmother was prisoned for 
praying against something they didn’t see holiness in
she recorded a video which my mother watched while
eating peaches and passing her fingers through my hair.

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My parents came from places where 
wars visited them too often.
So they never liked the police and
they bought as many flowers to place in their apartment 
so that their sudden death, if it happens, 
might look beautiful.

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When my mother died I 
wore a pink shirt and hurried to tell my father.
My father smiled at me and we 
in that split second and among all the mourning
celebrated that little fact. 

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My parents exhaled tenderness so
repeatedly in our palms that 
love and war don’t cancel each other when
both come at the doorstep.