If you and I aren’t from the same land,

by valentinestavrou

then tell me how do you know that the remains of brewed coffee are silent storytellers of my future,

how come you know that jasmine’s smell on morning mist shouts summer

the same way the smell of burned oil means kefte is today’s lunch.

 

If you and I aren’t from the same land,

then tell me how we both say rusfeti when we waste our time discussing this island’s politicians

tell me how you yearn for lemonade during spring

and was it a coincidence that a red cloth was wrapped around your sister’s waist on her wedding day?

 

If you and I aren’t from the same land,

then how come we both come from Nicosia/Lefkosa/ Λευκωσία

and how come we share the same history,

and how come it hurts when we cross?

If you and I aren’t from the same land,

then why everything you say is so familiar?

 

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