Remembering

Listening to the poetry in the voices of California and the words of songs that run down the spine of the state while I read the voices of grief in poetry about Palestine in the key of occupation.

For a moment, I dip into my past and remember someone who sent his friends to serenade me when I was just 19, with the music of exile and emotions that know no borders.

I was too young to know what a gift this was...

I had not lived enough yet to hear what I was being told.