-1-
Before terror crept into the wings of the sparrows...
And before the baobab trees knelt,
And their backs broke...
I gifted you joy in Bali.
-2-
If Sari Klub hadn't died,
And drowned in the blood of the innocent,
He would have told the universe our story:
How we tamed the dance floor with our feet.
And how the wine bottles trembled and sighed when I sipped your saliva.
-3-
The inhabitants of Bali loved you at first sight.
Their greeting to you was a welcome.
The garlands of flowers they offered for your neck
Refused to wither after a week of pampering
And swaying upon your breasts.
Their necklaces adorned you,
They beautified you,
They restored you to an Eastern princess,
Whose duel the West fears.
-4-
Had they not burned the dream in Bali...
I would have followed in your footsteps,
And gathered them one by one in my suitcase.
I will not return to Sydney,
While the shores of Nusa Dua
Retain the dust of your feet!
Oh, how thick its crystal-clear waters are!
They stole you from me,
And bathed you a hundred times a minute,
Without even a glance at me,
Or acknowledging my presence with you!
-5-
(Kota), as sweet as honey,
Didn't interfere.
She gifted us her streets,
Her shops,
And the two restaurants (Pizza Hut)
And (McDonald's)...
And whispered in our ears:
Don't be afraid of ghosts,
For the believer has nothing to fear.
And suddenly, the ghosts crept into Kuta
And extinguished her radiant,
Angelic smile with the flames of their deadly hatred.
Two years after our journey to Bali, Kuta voiced her fear.
-6-
Bring me the bouquets of flowers you keep,
so, I may return them to Bali.
Our island is sad,
my love,
like our Palestinian mothers,
her green face veiled in pain,
her heart throbbing with love wounded,
and the faces of her visitors reaped with the sickle of terror.
Where are the people?
I hear the rattle of her heart,
The whisper of her tears,
Life will not return to Bali,
Unless we return to it...
And erase with our faithful dances
The barbaric, infidel fingerprints.
**
