They imprisoned our tongues
And declared our sex speechless
Like two Babylonian stones
Our eyes are now useless.
Palestine is a rose that rose
To refresh the air as it enters the nose.
There must be a light at the end of this tunnel
At a point where
So many eyes look into darkness
Cut through a bone and
There will be a creature there
With no hands
And only eyes
Eyes and soul.
That being will find a light from within you
And strike it out to the world.
In that place
The river of sadness dries
Melancholy waves hush and
The Sorrow garden
Reflects an Arabian desert moonlight
To shine the universe.
You sit with your hand back and forth
Playing the water of a Damascus fountain.
Amir Darwish © 2015