( Kaasak) كاسك

I had a dream.

I was pressing myself into your chest,
hugging your tall, strong body.
Your arms firmly wrapped around me.

It’s been two years now.
So much has happened, ya Baba —

Mom still puts a flower and a candle on your seat at the table,
prepares كبة ولحمة نية.
We feast, raise our glasses in your memory.
Mom always sheds a tear.

I couldn’t make it home this year.
Yes, the war is still on,
فيلم أميركي طويل كتير هالمرة.
You would have been so sad to see it.

The last time I saw you,
your body was weak,
your back was bent,
your eyes were tired.

Even your voice was low.

But when I remember you,
I remember you as a majestic mountain,
a voice like a lion,
saying,

“حتى من الله ما تخافه”

The same words I say today to my daughters.

It’s been two years now, and your words still echo in my dreams.

كاسك