Walking through walls

One day I shall walk all the way
to Gaza, depart from the lemons
of longing, from seventy five

summers of barriers and walls,
from the hills of the Galilee,
Nazareth and the Haifa port,

I could cut through the flattened coast,
walk the flat coastal road and peel
Yaffa oranges for sunset

but I’ve always wanted to climb
shepherd hills and dwell in the green
orchards of the valleys of Jenin

and from there to the rocky slopes
of the mountains of Nablus
and the fiery hills of Al-Khalil,

string the cities and villages
of Palestine on a thread,
like beads, without loops, knots or twists;

one day, as father used to say,
the exiled shall march back on foot
from Gaza’s coast to Galilee.