An Unbirth 

In our sleep the powers to be  

chose for us not to be.

In our sleep we wandered,

tossed between those who conquered,

and those who squandered.

Awake, we looked back,

in horror and in shame,

only to be haunted by history

and geography, untamed.

We still look for that light 

whose wake has long passed 

and still seek that call

when asked but we cannot fall

even as we march on one leg

to the stray side of Pelest. 

My Local Universe

        My Local Universe

 

I move and it moves with me

like my shadow, 

my reflection,

my weight.

I turn and it turns with me

like my shame,

my conviction,

my fate.

I age and it ages with me

but unlike time, 

unlike shapes,

and unlike this love or that hate. 

Hint of the Century

                                                 Hint of the Century

 

Did you see us?,

and them,

did you hear us?, then,  

refusing to be condemned, 

rejecting all past tense, 

and all things and sense,

did you see us?

Old and young,

rich and poor,

free or bound,

from this diaspora or that,

from within and from without,

cheering as one,

in breath, soul and wish,

and chasing all doubt.

Did you get all that?

There is only one Pelest,

one people, one destiny, 

sans all spun, but this one.

Did you get this squint, this thing,

this hint, of their done century?  

Queen of the Temple and the Forty Thieves

Queen of the Temple and the Forty Thieves

 

Sacred is this silence and this chant,

for this closure that is only here and now,

or so it gives. 

Stolen is your story and my past, 

forgive me, no one could show me the way, 

or how to understand and hold back, 

unseen, those frozen tears, 

half-forgotten years,  and everything humble, 

grand or in between.

Forgive me as I never saw you like this before, 

in so much peace, and you can’t. 

Forty thieves have come by, 

stumbled then stowed,

all that I have ever had, and lost.

All that there is to have and lose, 

in freed and tired images, barren and scant.   

We have an address: Gaza, Palestine 20XX!

                                     We have an address:  Gaza, Palestine 20XX!

 

We never counted, did you know? 

you or me, in this hollow calculus or that,

as you have always known, dreamt and heard, 

from us, from their shallow words and

from their unholy chant,  

nothing is or can be yours, ours, 

only theirs, may be even less,

than a broken chant.

Redacted, then recalled to be celebrated, 

like an endangered species, 

not belonging to this place, this time, 

or this blurred, surreal count.

 

Have they run out of apologetics, you think?

Pundits and skeptics,

who know how to count,

spell, fake, and then shout, 

words which are not theirs,

through air which it can barely care,

and with breaths stolen from you,

from us, from that frozen stare,

from your future, from this unmistakable 

and done glare.

I know you were, as you will be, there.

 

You shall emerge,

from this abyss, this surreal down,

who else can?

With a new beginning, a new everything,

and no less, and no plan.

You shall emerge, 

carrying this soul, this thing, 

that’s us, all of us, as we like to stand, 

with all that we had managed to drag along,

from 19XX, and everything else, strong,

to be here, there, and in between.

You shall emerge,

I know, as the heavens, our sun, even this place,

uncounted they shall surge…seen or unseen. 

My El

    My El

In those forgotten and

passing moments, or

in their still, do you recall,

when suns ago,

I once fell, and time

had stalled, but you were

there to fill this surreal void,

and then all felt,

for a timeless stir, safe and

comfortably stowed,

there, between your smiles,

and buoyed,

with every fervent,

sigh and stare,

do you recall?

That I owe this and more.

How much,

I will never know,

for love alone,

for sure,

may not bear or show.

The Shape of Void

The Shape of Void

Distant, and close

as close as now

and no farther than

this air

this rose

this lonely pose,

and this deferred vow.

What I see in

symbols and in prose,

is you,

hidden,

in void and in those

nulls,

blurred and shun.

Can you feel me?

I am here and you’re not,

I am there, but I ought to be,

where you are, where

the Sun is, and we.

Can you feel me?

Can you show me,

how shapes come to be,

where light avoids all,

and fails,

and how void becomes you,

and you, the shape of void,

unveiled?

The only Mohammad I knew

                The only Mohammad I knew

I read your words, brother,

but where was your voice?

I could read your mind,

but I always wondered if you

could see, or heed this void?

I wondered blind, in this distant,

surreal, stir, did you?

I recall moments and ages, brother,

when all was you and buoyed,

far from this fall, far from all.

I wonder still, brother,

will things always be,

as they never were?

Or will they, in your absence,

remain a heedless call?

To Live and Die by an ROI

     To Live and Die by an ROI

I hear and not see,

as I long and

cheer for you, and try,

stunned, to compute,

for you,

this bewildered string of things,

numbers and shapes.

I watch them pass me by,

real, but guised and draped,

in a blurred and patched shy.

They stare at me, hollow,

I think,

but silent remains the broken flute,

when binned blunt,

and too thin.

What is this thing, I ask less of you,

is it our loss, win,

or their stirred, surreal bluff?

When You’re Here

                   When You’re Here

It is just us, my dear,

no sound, far or near,

but your voice,

and no light,

but from your sight,

my only star,

to rejoice and wilt,

to hold onto, in  this

blurred flight,

moments of old and new,

unshared and not,

in this bliss,

this unquiet calm,

stirred by its silent wind,

which you see as true,

and I, see you, as its one,

and only soul and hue.

Life...a la Carte

Life…a la Carte

Moments reincarnated

you would think and hope

anew

no cohort

yet so few

never once fully acted

and always a blink

or two

short.

Thus is life,

I am told,

Are you sold?

Or haven’t you heard,

of a place,

where the old

and the new

together onto a shy sun flew?

With words of strife,

in a silent roar, wry they remain

and untrue.

Did I blur the two,

those moments,

of the mold,

and those that are wholly yours?

You thought

you had lost,

won, or threw?

Moments reincarnated,

in semi-lies and semi-truths,

but always yours to hold.

Light upon less Light

Light upon less Light

As you fade softly from my sight

ascending those lofty stairs

looking back at me in spite

of moments shared and those that were not 

blending present with past

and dreams with a future passed

a beginning with no last

I ask where do you go?

when I am here and you are so

close,  and yet so distantly vast?

Then there was…

Then there was…

Then there was right,

    and there was wrong,

    and there was nothing

    in between.

Then there was this song,

   about this dark light,

   and words…and things

   unseen.

Who’s to say what was,

   and what was not,

   and what will this past bring,

   or brought, in lien.

Don’t you remember?

                             Don’t you remember?

What we swore to keep all

between you and me,

as ours,

like this shore to this sea  

keeps its core, breathless,

till its longest hour.

What we settled to dream

alone, in this stream, mindless

till its farthest flower.

Don’t you remember?

all the words that were not spoken,

and all the sighs that were,

in a blurred moment, stolen.

And all the strange things,

that were stirred and were not.

Don’t you remember?

what was ours,

and what we sought,

breath by breath,

to make them so,

only to be brought

into this buoyed real,

with life and death,

a realm from a void.

How can you not remember?

when all was a lull, 
and untold.

When Men Cry

                    When Men Cry

dry tears across renounced years
their sewn visions of stillborn
chances visited, again and again,
often uncalled and smeared, but
always celebrated, mourned, then
worn as trophies of yester fears
won over like a sun glossing 
over its void, only to return
still uncalled and stern.
Witnesses of the rebirth of
immaculate misconceptions,
those tears fester unclaimed,
but by actor and fan,
still wild and untamed,
like tellers of myths can,
men cry only to unlearn.

Save me but one "Omni'a"

                        Save me but one "Omni'a"

To feel all that was meant to be felt,

to dream what no one has yet to gleam

from that smile, that spell,

and all that which by my way was sent.

To share all that was meant to be shared,

in health and in that proverbial ill,

dared, or forever frozen,

hiding scared, and lullybied to nil.

To see all that was meant to see,

moments and epochs freed,

from light, from distance and from time,

where your colors are...but one rhyme, that is mine.

To wish all that was meant to be wished,

that is you, late in fate...my climb and my fall.

What is left to fear?

but the loss of one omni'a, that is "all."

Purple Fate

                            Purple Fate

Stowed between this moment and the next,
I learned not to wait,
for this fading love, or that owed hate.
Come as you may,
for I forgot how to weigh,
this loaded stay, this pray,
and all along this faceless way.
Can you hear me,   
dear?
Will you, in a moment, in a year?
which you could not steer,
nor I, to be clear.
We're both here,
stowed, strode, and almost near.
Is it our fate?,
their broken promise?,
or just us,
not knowing,
how to be little,
or great.

Full Moon

                                          Full Moon

And you ask, who's watching whom?
I say, it's you,
from here, where it so looms
and when it fades anew,
in a wake laid in shades of blue,
tear by tear,
no stake, and no clue.
Farther than near,
but when it sees you,
shy it must become,
but less true,
can you feel it some?
but you have trusted none,
before,
and I still say, it's you,
now from there, where it hid
the sun, in a lair, and,
you, from my tilt view.
I saw the shores,
of a silent, full moon,
and you're still hidden,
and I still run, from guilt,
back and fore.

I want not to Forget

                              I want not to Forget

How I felt,
when I thought I knew
what it all meant,
and what it all summed up to,
one and true.
I want not to forget
that it was through
you that I was one
then two,
it was you,
through and through
that made
the old new,
and the new blue.
I saw what you saw
and I breathed
what you spew, 
raw, unbroken
and un-wreathed,
so could you.
I want not to forget
and avoid this
void, this foil,
and this shadow
of a distant glow.
I heard what you heard,
and I got all you meant,
un-thought and un-shared.
But I grow old,
and forget some,
remember some,
as I bow un-bold
to time and its will.
I want not to forget,
as I climb through this still
holding so it can vet 
one cravesse un-told.

Stay of an E-motion

                                Stay of an E-motion

The moon of another sky
attests
come and celebrate!
I shout in murmur, what?
and not wait...
for an answer...
for a stay...
of that old fate,
and this recurring blur,
but...
it comes...
like silence, when it
weighs in
heavy...and flouts
all that has been
like burning rays
on a two-fold grin
that won't quit,
an E-motion
in a sea of enumerable Es
motion-less
or they seem, immovable
like this stay
of but one E-motion
that sees none now
but this thing...
more or less...
as it runs and shuns
the sun of another sky,
and another stay
of another day,
still stirring for its bless.