Moscow! Mother says
when Farouk asks,
Capital of Russia?
Japan? Tokyo!
She gazes at the sun
mirrored in a pane
across the courtyard.
“You were born
a week after Nagasaki,”
she says to Farouk
who arches his eyebrows
leans forward in his chair
gently rubs her gnarled fingers,
but keeps on playing.
Germany? Munich!
No. Berlin, he says,
& you, standing at the footboard,
think to what purpose
reprising history
of human madness
in the 20th Century.
So many hardy women — here
Hebrew Home for Aged
The Bronx
lived through so many horrors
the horror of nuking humans
of Partitions
…/…
horror of Holocausts
of the Nakba
of a Cold War in Europe
horror of hot wars in Asia —
so many strong women like Mother
paragraphs of pyrrhic pride
writ on furrowed faces,
declining on soft beds—
yes, declining not reclining —
who now play along
with prosperous sons
in posh pavilions
named for patrons
who would annex
planets beyond the moon
if they could.
What’s the capital of Israel? Farouk asks.
“A trick question,” Mother says,
chuckling, “Falasteen.”
– Rafiq Kathwari is the first non-Irish recipient of the Patrick Kavanagh Award. He contributed this poem to Palestine Chronicle.
