Why this will not matter

Because I said to you, I will stay and lied
this will not matter

because I see myself, in a frigid city
scavenger of Za'tar to make you happy, this will not matter

because it is only secondary, to want and burn the bread
while you day-dream of the past, this will not matter

because I still write in cursive while most other type letters
to you, to them, to the universe but mostly for myself, this will not matter

because the trees have blossomed, then lost shape, then regained leaves
while I was just watching, this will not matter

because there are more dead people than one could count on ten fingers
and our death is faster than life here, this will not matter

because each time I wear my thobe, I forget how long it takes
to stitch together one life, one thread at a time, this will not matter

because I was never a freedom fighter,
even if I believed I could never live  in a cage, this will not matter

because the longer I write, the easier it is for me to reach myself
this will not matter,

because of all the times I wrote I was using the wrong pronouns,
writing to you, to he, to she, instead to the "I" the eye ignored
this will not matter