Trace of The Tide
“I have always wished to hear the sound of ships and vessels arriving from all over the world to dock at Gaza’s port. I have never lost hope; the sea always surprises us with so much.
Trace of The Tide
Arch of Triumph
There, I used to shelter beneath it,
welcoming through the gateway of the sea
the evening breezes,
laden with alphabets of pride.
And if night descended around us,
from within the darkness I would see my beloved’s face,
washed in the dew of day.
Slowly, she would speak to me,
her voice carrying the details of love,
and the horizon pledged to an hour
pregnant with the colours of joy.
Do not tear down their arches, you who tamper with them.
Gouraud will not return.
A thousand Maysaluns, and a thousand more, await you.
Do you not see?
On Trace of The Tide, he says:
“He weeps in the voice of a suffocating child, waving to those passing towards Trace of The Tide.
Nothing resembles my home, its windows shattered, the wind raging through it and its curtains flying. When it left me, I realised that home is what you carry within you when you depart.
On Trace of The Tide, he says:
“Trace of The Tide is a commons shaped by the trace of twoness:
between the human and the more-than-human;
an opening that restores to humanity the capacity to tremble;
a space beyond the course of binaries;
an expanse where the lexicon of synonyms opens upon the dust of opposites;
a vast meadow of endless possibilities.
A living horizon where creation moves, possibility takes form, and returns to transform again between stories and mujaawarah—companionship, proximity, and shared life.
I am the Moon of the Wolves; I do not possess the language of humans with which to bear witness. Everything I utter is a howl above Trace of The Tide, and everything you hear is a wail for the homes that vanished and the names the waves swallowed, without swallowing their trace.
