Thinking that later it will be too hot
she has decided to leave early…
Before leaving, she has taken the key his dad gave him before passing away
She has taken it in her hands
Bih, heavy and even if it has started rusting
she has looked at it with love… before putting it in her pocket.
She has left home, and on the path on the left
she has started.
She has seen that the earth is dressed in the special colours
given by the dryness…
Finally she has arrived to the space surrounded by olive woods
and she has put her regard unconsciously on the skyline
she has put down the key and sited down, stresslesly
with a slow motion….
Once again she has remembered looking at the key
that it opens the door of the house they were forced to leave in Palestine-
If there is door now… or a house…
And while she is deep in those thoughts the wind has started blowing
moving the olive branches… and then, when she
olibo ardaskak mugituz… eta instant horretan, txoriak
has seen the birds flying against the wind she has remembered
that sometime someone told her: One day
the wind of history will also change in Palestine. Maybe.
Arnaldo Otegi,