A Worker, Waiting

to the Egyptian day laborers in Jordan

By Najwan Darwish

In the morning, I’ll go down to the square

and sit among you

and wait.

Have I ever been,

in my whole life,

anything but a worker, waiting?

I’m Egyptian, too.

I look out of this pit and see my grandmother Cleopatra

handing Africa over

to Mark Antony,

the most arrogant of her lovers.

Then I go back to staring at the mud.

I’m Egyptian, too.

ai think of how the Great Pyramid was build

before I go down to the square to sit among you.

My breath’s shorter than the cigarette in your hand,

but still I’ll wait.

My heart’s darker than the midday sun,

but still I’ll wait.

I milk hope from the udders

of this black goat you name despair

and learn to wait.

I’m Egyptian, too.