Five Years Have Passed in Exile

Translated from the Arabic

Five years have passed in exile—

inside my house,

I draw the homeland from my bloodstream

with the needle of time,

spread it on bread

and feed it to my children.

Jobless, I repeat:

I am a poet.

One day, society may need me

to gather its fragments.

I am a garbage collector.

I trade my full name

for a relief box.

Rice ... sugar ... humiliation ... tea ... pasta ...

and everything that keeps me

alive in the farce.

Notes:

This poem is part of the folio “Broken Lines: A Gathering of Exiled Poets,” curated by Laura Kraftowitz and Edward Salem. Read the rest of the folio in the July/August 2026 issue of Poetry.

Source: Poetry (July/August 2026)