My City
I journeyed from my city
across the land of dreams
and found the destiny of those
who wandered away from their cities
my country is not Karl Marx
it is not the ancient past of politics
drowned in a sea of oblivion
staring in the light of shadows
England is my home, the past is my city
England will come as men of desperate needs
come to the rich, the land is my psyche
buildings are my nerves
rain is my blood
my city is standing before me
poem by Bassel Almasalmeh
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