My Grandma Im Saleem

In an old restaurant,
Decorated with plastic plants,
*Im Kalthum was played
Resurrecting an old memory of a home
That has only become a ghost.
I desperately seek a living remnant
The song resonates within my soul
Other tunes of that land
A bald old man,
with a big moustache,
Dark skin and big rough hands,
Brings me waterI smile:
does he know my song?
Secret whispers come from hookahs
Pictures of a mosque and a church
The smell of food brings pictures
and sounds Of when my mother
used to make me eatGrapes leaves and Zukini
The smell of Arabic coffee brings back
Early mornings with
Old people sitting at balconies
Sipping coffee talking about the future
My grandma is reading in my cup,
"You will travel many places. **Maktub.
"Does the cup say when I will come back?
"No. But, I see a group of people.
Who love you greatly," she says.
I look in my cup to find it but I cannot
It only takes a wise old person,
Like my grandma Im Saleem,
Drinking Arabic coffee to see that