Zeit And Za'atar Poem by Nizar Sartawi

I'm hungry mamma!
Here sweetheart, she said
sit down!
I sat on a mattress on the floor
at a low round table.
She placed before me
a bowl of olive oil,
a tiny saucer filled with thyme,
a loaf of bread hot from the taboon
and a glass of water.
Now see, she smiled,
we break a tiny piece of bread,
dip it in the zeit
and slowly slowly lift it up.
See how the zeit is dripping!
We brush it against the edge,
so that the drops won't stain our clothes
We let it touch - just touch - the za'atar
and lift it up to our mouth.

She lifted it towards my mouth
I took it in and chewed and swallowed

Said she: the za'atar, son,
is blessed by the soil
the land's gift to its people
The olive tree is blessed by Allah.
It‘s Allah's gift to the holy land
and to the people
of Palestine.