An ode to Egypt

I miss watching the Nile catch the sun,

Glittering reflections like lotuses dancing on its surface.

I miss walking down streets and witnessing how history unfolded,

Centuries passing by with every few steps I take,

Whispering stories of a land that always was.

I miss crossing a narrow street from a church to a mosque,

Close enough for a cross and a minaret to embrace.

I miss being able to reach out and touch stone, soil and sand,

Knowing I’m feeling the lingering handprints of my ancestors,

Men, women and children who changed the world.

I miss breathing in the density of culture,

Layers upon layers,

Feeling the Pharaohs, Romans, Greeks and Copts,

The Bedouins, the English, the French and the Turks,

The lush scent of the children of the Nile in the air.

I miss being the heart of the compass,

Mediterranean in the North, African in the South,

Arab to the West, transcontinental to the East,

Gloriously, divinely Egyptian at the centre.

I miss the sound of music, of lyrics that united nations,

Of cries for freedom, laments for lost love and chants for the Creator.

I miss the beauty of art,

Handcrafted secrets tenderly living through generations.

I miss the possibility of vast lands,

Of deserts, valleys, seas, rivers, mountains and gardens.

I miss the sight of people able to smile through oppression,

To laugh through pain, and to give unconditionally,

Even as they linger at the edge of despair.

I miss the fearless fight for justice,

The protection of family at every cost

And love of strangers.

I miss the ferocity of pride for a nation.

I miss the love of jest,

The seriousness of literature, and the beauty of dialects.

I miss community,

Diverse, vibrant, persevering against atrocities.

I miss how the ancient blends with the modern,

How struggles blend with triumphs,

How hope lives alongside fear and somehow never dies.

I miss the intensity of talent,

The audacity of dreams, the steel of resolve,

And I hear the call of the Mother of the World,

Pulling at our heart-strings,

Reminding her children across the globe so that they never forget,

That it is, always has been and always will be running through their blood,

Waiting with open arms for their return,

For splendid reunions under the rays of her sun.