the nostalgia of refugees

the nostalgia of refugees
stifled, forgotten, censored
occasionally resurfaces after dinner
we swallow our disdain for outdated ideas and traditions
as they recall a distant memory
of home and childhood
of war and leaving
of bankruptcy and cabbie moments
our parents
belittled for spelling mistakes and elementary education
sit before us
confessing life's betrayals
over green tea and pastries
making light of all that this country has done to them
and once they realize how vulnerable they've become
they turn to us
cursing in jest and in panic
the motherland
the youth
all things stolen

Dying people are much like living people
They laugh like us
They get angry like us
Throw tantrums
Snidely whisper to their friends during conversations and dress up for weddings
Dying people are much like living people
Sometimes they grab you and make you promise you will make duaa for them
Suddenly declare their appreciation for you even if it is not in their nature
They stop having frivolous conversations
Listen,  listen,  nod affirmatively and furrow their brows skeptically but don't say much
They pray more and pray for you
To find a man who will watch you when I'm gone and to find a stable job
To get your masters and start a business.
Recite Quran and pray tahajjud
Make long sujoods and collapse into tears
Dying people are much like living people
They leave you for years after with only the silence in the pit of your heart
The silence you got accustomed to when they started dying.