I could not have imagined you, Jerusalem.
The colour of your stones, and of the land
And of the terraced hillsides, and of the desert,
Was yellow ochre tinged with white,
With lemon yellow, and vermilion.
But that was just the detail.
The essence was the might, the mightiness,
The peacefulness, the power,
The deep and hidden majesty,
Of four eternal spirits mingled.
Of Adam, Moses, Jesus, and Muhammad.
I remember the trees of my childhood,
Elm trees that are no longer there -
I remember how they made me feel good
When now I fall into despair.
I remember my school and its teachers
As a place that was happy and kind -
I remember the summer sun breezes
In a world that now seems to go blind.
I remember the fields and the hillsides,
The butterflies bright patterned wings -
I remember the wind on the bike rides
And how I would play on the swings.
O moon-faced Beloved,
the month of Ramadan has arrived
Cover the table
and open the path of praise
O fickle busybody,
it’s time to change your ways.
Can you see the one who’s selling the halvah?
how long will it be the halvah you desire? Continue reading