God, I’m already on my kneels
Before unsealing my sinful lips
Asking for your mercy
Because I know it is sinful to ask you “why?”
An Irony of Royalty
Like a seed broken and buried
Yet to return anew on bloom’s day.
Like gold on a voyage of flames
Returning aglow on glory’s...
Birds Still Fly in Damascus
The hum of the flaming helicopter
for the new hole of
falling on Al-Marjeh, Damascus central square.
A flock of cuckoos fly
The Empty Pot
When I’d suggested to my son that we move
the seedlings from the foyer to the corner of our lot,
I thought I was...
my idealism is like
bare feet in summer grass
that drift like stars
is like city lights
that speckle wet streets
with vibrant paint.
The big man huffed and puffed, the smoke from his cigar forming perfect ringlets in the air. The...