"The Saffron within Me"

When my feet touch the soil,

and the breath of the mountains gathers me in,

it feels as though the wheat fields swell

with a million stories and quiet aching,

as though my history rises

from the land itself

to unlock my hidden soul.

And perhaps the moment my hands meet the dust of olives and figs,

is the purest way,

a body can return

to the morning dew

And I wonder,

in such a meeting,

do I become saffron too?

So I breathe…

until breath turns into branches,

and the heart becomes

the shadow of a mountain

that has always known my name.

It is as if everything within me

carries the names of the land and the hills,

as if my very body whispers:

I am from here…

I am from Palestine—فلسطين.

And the sun and I,

like colors of a rainbow,

arrive after the storm,

to say that light

is never silenced by darkness.