\u00a0When We Grow Older<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n Poet: Anwar Alkhatib<\/strong><\/p>\n Translator: Allison Blecker<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n When we grow older<\/p>\n we begin to observe the boring details of life:<\/p>\n The arrival of night faster than the day expects<\/p>\n The arrival of day slower than the night anticipates<\/p>\n Appointment-free mornings<\/p>\n The boredom of coffee with its smidgen of sugar<\/p>\n spilling over into its saucer<\/p>\n The similarity of flavors in food<\/p>\n The similarity of places<\/p>\n Our hatred for mirrors<\/p>\n Our indifference to the girls passing by<\/p>\n The similarity of all our limbs<\/p>\n When we grow older<\/p>\n we begin to suffer from a paucity of expectations:<\/p>\n We don\u2019t expect a visitor, a relative, a beloved<\/p>\n nor a phone call from an old friend<\/p>\n We don\u2019t expect new news<\/p>\n a new victory, nor a new defeat<\/p>\n For all that was going to happen has already come to pass<\/p>\n We don\u2019t expect anything<\/p>\n We don\u2019t expect that we will expect anything<\/p>\n Except what we already know and reject<\/p>\n Except that someone will inform us<\/p>\n we were found in the road, disoriented<\/p>\n or lost, or moving toward an idea unknown to us<\/p>\n which we know well<\/p>\n When we grow older we don\u2019t wait for anyone<\/p>\n For the arrival of winter is a quandary,<\/p>\n the arrival of summer is a heavy burden<\/p>\n and the autumn leaves resemble us\u2026and terrify us<\/p>\n All our waiting is for self-evident things:<\/p>\n Our sleeplessness in the totality of our breaths<\/p>\n Our ability to recall who is around us<\/p>\n The deeds to our land<\/p>\n The locations of our house keys<\/p>\n The ambush sites that count us<\/p>\n and rejoice when the crowd in our houses diminishes<\/p>\n When we grow older, we understand what it means that we have grown older<\/p>\n and those who lie in wait don\u2019t understand<\/p>\n that whenever we grow older<\/p>\n they grow younger in our eyes<\/p>\n August 2009<\/p>\n \n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" \u00a0When We Grow Older Poet: Anwar Alkhatib Translator: Allison Blecker When we grow older we begin to observe the boring details of life: The arrival of night faster than the day expects The arrival of day slower than the night anticipates Appointment-free …<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":560,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_ml_titleColor":"#000000","_ml_titleFont":"Roboto","_ml_titleFontSize":1.136,"_ml_titleFontWeight":"400","_ml_titleLineHeight":1.3,"_ml_metaColor":"#708090","_ml_metaFont":"Montserrat","_ml_metaFontSize":0.6785,"_ml_metaFontWeight":"400","_ml_metaLineHeight":0.92,"_ml_bodyColor":"#a9a9a9","_ml_bodyFont":"Open Sans","_ml_bodyFontSize":0.85,"_ml_bodyFontWeight":"400","_ml_bodyLineHeight":1.2,"_ml_wooPriceColor":"#666","_ml_wooPriceFont":"Open 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