When a misunderstanding arises between two Arabs,
or if one of them is profusely thankful for an offered
kindness, the other will insist with sincere reminder

habibi, baynetna khobz w meleh.
beloved, what’s between us is bread and salt.

This is it. This is all that stands in the way, and what
also joins us. Bread to satisfy our hunger, salt to cure
our wounds. Here is an act of welcome, an offered
alliance, a sacrament of refuge not by overt promise,
but by the metaphor of substance, by the common
things found on the table that bring us to feast.

I will offer you a torn piece of bread fresh out the
oven of my furnaced devotion, and you will offer me
salt distilled from the sweat of your earnest years.

A reminder that all that stands between us is an
appetite for communion, this thirst for yet another
cup. Like this we can gather around the table,
and even if there is no table, a bench, a blanket.
Hell, even the torn ground will do to lay
before each other an abundance of
flesh and tears.