Poems

I killed my shadow

 

i killed my shadow

I killed my shadow
On a silent afternoon infused with a copper hue
I refused to surrender

With arms stretched under the scorching sun
I let in waves of heat inside my being
Until they reached down my soul

My shadow was no more…

Then night came playing its Cimmerian tune
Darkness stretching its arms everywhere
Like lovers reigning in their blissful content

But I saw the path every night
As I walked through the valley of shadow and death
That black I killed led me

Now the Dark of me brimmed with light
My shadow shimmered like gold
And showed me the way

I refused to surrender….

Some People

some people

Some people, we love them;
but we don’t get near them
because, from far, they are more seductive,
from far, they are more noble
from far, they are more precious.

Some people, we love them,
we do anything to be close to them,
we do everything to share every detail of our life with them,
it hurts to stay away from them,
it is impossible to imagine our life without them.

Some people, we love them,
we wish to live a beautiful story with them,
we come up with circumstances just to bump into them,
we come up with excuses just to see them,
we live a fantasy with them.

Some people, we love them,
but we keep it a secret to ourselves,
so we remain silent, even if it burns us,
we don’t declare our love, because the obstacles are numerous,
and the consequences are frightening,
and it is best for us that the door stays shut between us.

Some people, we love them,
we fill the earth with their love and we speak about them to the world,
we constantly whisper their name,
we need their presence… like water…like air,
we suffocate when they are not around.

Some people, we love them,
because they are available,
and our need to be loved pulls us to them,
because time flies, we age, and it scares us to stay without a companion.

Some people, we love them,
because they deserve nothing but to be loved,
we learn from them,
we build with them,
we paint the color of life with them,
we do everything to keep them happy.

Some people, we love them,
but they don’t love us back,
so we break and fall,
we never forget them,
we love no one but them,
and we cry them over again, every time we fail to win their love.

Some people, we love them,
we just wait until they see us,
until they love us in return,
until they love us as much as we love them.

~ Khalil Gibran

Khalil Gibran (1883-1931) was born in Bsharri, Lebanon. He immigrated with his parents to Boston in 1895, and later settled in New York City. His works, written in both Arabic and English, are full of lyrical outpourings and express his deeply religious and mystical nature. His work The Prophet (1923), a book of poetic essays, achieved cult status in modern literature. Gibran died in New York City.

Now

Now

Sometimes yes it’s hard to carry hope
For it’s not easy to steady the ship
The waves of life are a F5 storm
And the anchor of faith is lost somewhere
So I try to set the course in line
Manipulating
Twisting
Turning the truth
Feeding it all day so it sets the sails straight
And the course of life is back to normal
But then one day someone asked me
Tell me what to do as I am in great winds
The waters are getting deep and fear is creeping in
And I so wanted to help
But I ran
I ran as far as my legs could carry me
For my own anchors were no more than a lie
And then I remembered that
I wish often to change the world
But how can I be of any help
If I am not even true to myself
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
So I closed my eyes and told my heart
No more illusions no more lies
I will keep my ship away from the rocks
Because from now on
I am the one who knocks

Enigma

enigma

The fountain water at
city boulevard felt a new color
today, surprised it was

Blackish red splatter mixed with
a thousand dreams, the ripper
ran through the heart

Above she looked twice
as she bid adieu to her beloved
Be safe in His name

BANG, it all comes crumbling
down, her entire world lost in
a flash of this vindicated labyrinth

He’s back home in a box
a box which is now the dominion
of crushed hopes and prayers

Hallucination, agony, misery
disbelief, there she sits with it
lifts her head, she looks up again

 

Dedicated to every Mother who lost her child to a Bomb or a Bullet.