The leaves that we turn And the bridges we burn Remind us of places Where we may return If the turning and burning Do little for learning.
I’ll live to tomorrow If I die first tonight: Just send me your love On the tail of a swallow Forgotten in flight. For one look from my habib on the day it will matter the most. Ya Muqallib al-Qulub…
Chairs can help to remind you The support you need is behind you. The world may not know it’s got your back.
If you’re on Chanillo, do check out my recently launched poetry series here: http://channillo.com/series/sand-in-my-parfait/ It is set up for weekly updates. I added my second poem just this morning.
Let NOW be your canvas, Your breath be your brush: Let no words upon it To slash, burn or crush. Live your masterpiece.
This grocery rhyme in honor of our local grocer. Yunus the grocer sold his samosas At two-dollars-fifty a pound: A savory treat of taters and meat So very exquisitely ground, And wrapped in a layer of dough, All packaged and ready to go.
All the children we orphan, All the children we kill: We can deck every coffin, But we can’t check our will. All our tears are fire, All our mourning is play, When we look in the mirror And we must turn away. Thirty seconds of sorrow To be ready to preach, No, the fire burns deeper Than the heat of our speech. Take a moment to wonder: If the tables were turned, Would we run to hide under All our family burned. Time to strangle injustice With sincerity’s rope; Time to drown every challenge In a puddle of hope. But we’re lost to the darkness If we’re led by the blind, And the seeing, all silent, Simply follow behind. Fighting fire with fire Maybe needed sometimes, But the need of the hour Is for wide open minds. Wide. Open. Minds.