Al Qaeda brother, Hamas sister, Arab enemy,
be my friend.
My blood is red like yours.
My wound does not heal either.
The towers have fallen into ash,
the villages are shattered, gutted like quail.
Fathers entered the sidewalk at 90 miles per hour,
children's bones were removed by helicopter fire.
Now we must name each others holocausts.
Let us take off every mask and blindfold
so that we may see more clearly
the shadows of our ancestors dancing in the flames.
If we cannot kiss each others faces,
or hold each others hands, or bind
each others gashes, at least let us taste the salt
on our cheeks and know how all oceans flow
Al Qaeda brother, Hamas sister, I call you friend.
Your blood is mine, the river
of Isaac and Ishmael flowing back into Abraham,
flowing back to the green oasis,
and the fountain of the Nameless.
Its gate is a place just left of the heart
where the rib is missing:
In you it leads to me, in me it leads to you.
We both believe in Mary's womb.
That is why I share this secret of friendship:
Another womb floats within the silence of that one,
radiant darkness deeper than sorrow.
Friend, both of us have lived there.