Once a year, revisiting
the possibility of my absence being permanent,
my mother recounts the story of how I almost became
a cautionary tale. About seven, I wandered off,
becoming anonymous in the cacophony
of the Cairo train station. This emblem of modernity, site
of iconic cinematography, almost became my undoing
had it not been for a man I do not remember. My mother found
me besides him, the story goes, and did not stop
to ask where exactly he’d found me, opting to snatch
me in her arms for days on end instead. He could
have been a good Samaritan, or a phantom
to haunt her dreams for the next forty years. I am here,
so it does not matter.
Hazem Fahmy is a writer and critic from Cairo. He runs the literary newsletter wust el-balad, on Substack. His debut chapbook, Red//Jild//Prayer won the 2017 Diode Editions Contest, and his second, Waiting for Frank Ocean in Cairo was published in 2022 by Half-Mystic Press. A Kundiman and Watering Hole Fellow, his writing has appeared, or is forthcoming in The Best American Poetry 2020, The Boston Review, Prairie Schooner, Mubi Notebook, Reverse Shot, and Mizna. His performances have been featured on Button Poetry and Write About Now.
