Tuesday, July 15, 2008

Bed & Home

(by Saed J. Abu-Hijleh, Nablus, Palestine, July 15, 2008)

In communion with the One
that created the 100 billion galaxies
containing hundreds of billions of stars;
In the presence of the One that heals
all wounds that turn into scars:

Only He can hear my voice in the place
Where my dreams begin and end,
Where my face is not shown
under embroidered covers
in my sacred bed
in the darkness of moonless nights
before or after the soldiers
enter my neighborhood or the refugee camp
across the hill.


My home is the dream of my Dad,
the place in which I am sane or
when I am mad
without anyone seeing me
except the One that sees all.

My home is Love and the product of Love;
my neighbors are imperfect angels
who care about me
and want me to get married
and settle down
and stop being an international clown.

My home is in fifteenth street
in a city that lies between two mountains
channeling the breeze of the Mediterranean
to eastern dry lands
of prophets and nomads.

My home is under a dome
of mystic words
on the path of Sufi masters
to the land of bliss
where love burns all sins…

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