The Color of Our Zayt and Za'tar

The Color of Our Zayt and Za'tar


When the celestial colors fuse
they choose yours
an unforgiving cosmic green
with depths and wounds (un)seen 
as it has always looked
gleamed off your homeless eyes
and will always do
till time dies (un)foreseen
To us 
zaytooni and fest
yet dark and distant
to the rest
When they blink in hymn
those homeless eyes
two celestial fires 
are lit by them 
and sent far and near
across a dream sphere
where colors mingle and dance in cheer
looking for that qamar
that is our zayt and za'tar
Sheltered they shall find it
on the surreal side 
of those homeless eyes
from us
from time
and from the rest
who had long lost that polished guise
while they roamed
for that ancestral home
those homeless eyes 
who made zayt and za'tar
with light 
love
color and
sighs
Sheltered they shall find it
atop the celestial dome
waiting
a quiet fetal wait
of a frozen fate
in those homeless eyes
that have always embraced all
truths and lies
with no history to revise
and no future to surmise
Zaytooni they cry
tears now void of how and why
that cut a primal (un)holy river
across the dream sphere
through it they (un)flow
(un)chosen sad and bitter
on land barren
and under skies of fear
Destinies (un)reached
and promises breached
they (un)flow
their traceless steps (un)fold
despite time
despite fate
and despite all myths that are told
and sold
with both love and hate
Yours is the zaytooni
I seek
that some claim and others (un)claim
but both wreak
all that (un)holy fame
and shame
upon the color of
my zayt and za'tar
Yours is the zaytooni 
I wish to become
a timeless color
in a timeless dictum
of a word
of a poem
that belongs to another
who will never know
be or see
the color of our zayt and za'tar. 

Without a Protocol

    Without a Protocol


The blue sun shines down 
like it did for millennia
Its striped rays slice a bewildered landscape 
of half memories and orphaned reality   
Stripes of alternating blue   
covers my land and time 
In absentia  
where time is collated and 
my land 
violated 
without a protocol 


Of which half is half memories?
The shade of blue which I cannot name
or the dark one that hides in shame 
Which half is true?  
Which half is blue?
They stare at me as equal
as dual
I stare back 
but without a measure
or a protocol
the verdict is cruel
and one half cannot rule 


Collated time cannot carry events
that stretch across two scapes
two calendars
or two fates
It can carry half memories
across two suns
one blue and the other
less true
whose fates were once interwind
one of the other
but now severed
without a protocol



The orphaned reality endures
Its event streams 
and dreams
are gathered blindfolded
on a half stage 
and scolded 
under the blue sun
under the cusp of empty cheers
for what remains
to kneel and be one
with the half-forgotten realities 
and half memories
quietly and  
without a protocol  


Where do memories go to die?
Like dreams under the blue sun
or ether 
onto a sky
that fell?
Where does the other half dwell?
Our hearts
minds
or forever condemned to wander
both parts
without a protocol.