In Germany he stood,
a Lebanese, maybe Christian by name,
maybe Muslim by name,
a Byzantine Levantine,
labeled “Arab” by strangers’ tongues,
dreaming of Sidon, 1191 CE,
where Germans came not as Christians
but only as Crusaders,
building walls against the sea.
It was Christmas time,
the season of crosses and hymns,
but he carried centuries in his chest,
a hunger for justice,
a memory of fire.
And then—
a Canaanite voice, streaming in December 2024,
from the old stones of Palestine,
saying,
“I am not political.”
Yet the scene itself was political,
etched in history,
echoes of betrayal,
echoes of conquest.
The past and present met
like steel against stone,
the living and the dead
sharing the same script.
Sidon still breathes,
the Crusader shadow still lingers,
and the revenge unspoken
is written in the silence
of those who remember.