<html><head><meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html charset=us-ascii"></head><body style="word-wrap: break-word; -webkit-nbsp-mode: space; -webkit-line-break: after-white-space;" class=""><div style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal;" class="">Half-and-Half</div><div style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; min-height: 19px;" class=""><br class=""></div><div style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal;" class="">You can't be, says a Palestinian Christian</div><div style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal;" class="">on the first feast day after Ramadan.</div><div style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal;" class="">So, half-and-half and half-and-half.</div><div style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal;" class="">He sells glass. He knows about broken bits,</div><div style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal;" class="">chips. If you love Jesus you can't love</div><div style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal;" class="">anyone else. Says he.</div><div style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; min-height: 19px;" class=""><br class=""></div><div style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal;" class="">At his stall of blue pitchers on the Via Dolorosa,</div><div style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal;" class="">he's sweeping. The rubbed stones</div><div style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal;" class="">feel holy. Dusting of powdered sugar</div><div style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal;" class="">across face, of date-stuffed' mamool.</div><div style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; min-height: 19px;" class=""><br class=""></div><div style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal;" class="">This morning we lit the slim white candles</div><div style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal;" class="">which bend over at the waist by noon.</div><div style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal;" class="">For once the priests weren't fighting</div><div style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal;" class="">in the church for the best spots to stand.</div><div style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal;" class="">As a boy, my father listened to them fight.</div><div style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal;" class="">This is partly why he prays in no language</div><div style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal;" class="">but his own. Why I press my lips</div><div style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal;" class="">to every exception.</div><div style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; min-height: 19px;" class=""><br class=""></div><div style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal;" class="">A woman opens a window -- here and here and here</div><div style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal;" class="">placing a vase of blue flowers,</div><div style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal;" class="">on an orange cloth. I follow her.</div><div style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal;" class="">She is making a soup from what she had left</div><div style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal;" class="">in the bowl, the shriveled garlic and bent bean.</div><div style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal;" class="">She is leaving nothing out.</div><div style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal; min-height: 19px;" class=""><br class=""></div><div style="margin: 0px; line-height: normal;" class=""> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>- Naomi Shihab Nye</div><div style="margin: 0px; font-size: 16px; line-height: normal; min-height: 19px;" class=""><br class=""></div></body></html>