March dreams

I dreamed a friend posted a poem on her
Facebook wall. A Darwish poem that one could
read from the bottom up or from the top down.
I glanced at the last line to see if it were so
but didn’t copy it down or even take
a screenshot. I was busy with other things
and told myself I’d get back to it later.

When I awakened, I checked Facebook
to see if the poem was there. Silly me!
It was a dream! Still I sent my friend an email
on the outside chance it wasn’t a dream.
She probably thought I was using it
as an excuse to say what was for me
a hello that was long overdue.

I think it was the war that made me
think about Darwish. A Palestinian friend
“liked” my post on LinkedIn about Syria
(that was really about Ukraine, but don’t tell!).
The news says Putin bombed a villa
in a Ukrainian city that Biden owns.
And it’s Ash Wednesday.

The Bible verses I memorized as a child
sit comfortably inside my head beside
the Quranic ayats I learned as a teenager.
It’s all poetry and youth is so wasted on the young.
A converting Jewish woman sent me
the poem via Facebook in my dream.
All three People of the Book faiths present.
All I wanted, perhaps, was to say hello.