Homesick Poem Poem by Alaa Elgadi

The clock slowly devours time tick after tick,
And I feel extremely homesick.
Every night I sit down midst the blank walls,
Longing for the daily annoying phone calls.
Every moment I look at the white wooden door,
Expecting an old friend's shadow on the floor.
Every morning I imagine my mother's pretty face,
And my father's smile carrying the pistol with his briefcase.
Every afternoon I go back to my Cypriot flat,
Hoping to see a tasty meal and my mother on her prayer mat.
Every evening I miss my family's house during the tea time,
Remembering each niece and nephew's comic crime.
Every Friday I hardly seek the spirituality,
Yearning for my country's Islamic reality.
Every Monday I go to Eastern Mediterranean University,
Recalling my martyred old classmate Omar Wafa and Misurata City.
Every Thursday when I listen to the rain's speech,
I feel nostalgia for driving and going on picnics on the beach.
Every hot sunny weekend I go back home with a sweaty cap,
Fancying myself drinking the local water from my family kitchen's tap.
Every early morning Fairouz songs and I have breakfast,
Sipping a cup of Nescafe with my lovers' names in the quick past.
Every minute I long for finishing my Master study,
And travel back to Libya, where my soul waits for my body.
But every second I still feel homesick,
And North Cyprus clock refuses to be quick.