Category: Hope

River Mine and Yours

Lazy, tired, easy water

Slow green color

Slowly moving

Past me

I become

A leaf or a branch

That is hanging just within reach

Of lapping murmuring water

That now

And

Again

Quenches my thirsty surface…

Drops

Fall back

Into the

River

Only to be lightly splashed

Back

Onto a welcoming me

Longing to have such

Light spray

On

My

Parched

Soul…

Warm West Indian Night

I go back in the past

And open the window

And let in a hot sweet West Indian night

I take a handful of air

And cover my face

And feel so good, so fresh –

Lemon and jasmine

It must be with a touch

Just a touch of longing

For sweet frangipani

of my tired soul

Just a bit more,

I reach out into

The dark night of my soul

And take another handful

Before I open my eyes

And

Close the window

To the warm West Indian night

Excerpt from my article “Immigrant Lebanese”

I know from the beginning of time all peoples migrate – short distance or long distance – looking for something other than what they have, hoping for a better existence. To begin with Phoenicians were cut out for migration, being sailors and merchants, this was a given. They’re natural risk takers, sailing sometimes into total unknown. Life taking them up and down like the waves under their boats but as usual they continue through the ups and the downs. I guess this life appealed to them more than just stagnation….