The Olive Tree

Perception and reflection take me back to days when-

blood upon red and brown skin,
whip cracks on the ground,
earth colored with corpses,
screams only heard by the wind.

The forgotten ones - how we've chosen to send them away!

We exile them to our books, to once upon a time...
they live there now and so -

No regret beats down the pride hiding in the hard hearts of men -

When he turns a new page on a distant land -

Where brothers and neighbors let rage set fire to their stage -

Repeating a run of a show that's already been done -

Fight to the death - blame and shame -  who and how had it begun?

"turn thy head" and be gone, once a peaceful 'turn thy cheek'.

See how freedom takes sides as truth dares to speak?

Brothers and sisters...World!
Is this -

humanity?
Or insanity???



In the land of the Prophets.

where
Mercy weeps
and
Remembrance sleeps

in the branches of
the blessed olive tree...

Holding tongue

Oh God...

Make firm and steady my heart!

For these words I may send - flying to the skies!

So help me...capture them in the dark,

Let them not lift off this eager tongue!

They must stay - unsung.

To reflect on what happens to the bee - once it has stung.


So let the night go on.

And this lark.

Shall radiate.

With Silence.

Layers

 (Note: found an old poem I wrote in a book of mine - new poems will be up soon iA...enjoy)



It is said that a broken heart is the best vessel to welcome faith.

Caverns of cocooned space that await,

Where stones have bashed its face,

Silently...

solely waiting for faith to take its place.


I am a person.

I make mistakes.

I'm not unlike a simple caterpillar eating its way through life.

With an appointed time set.

Always under the impression that -
I'm not. there. yet.

Have I prepared for there?

Running away with my thoughts as the dish ran away with the spoon...

Forget about the muse...
Turn off that music...

Muffled my senses - had me crashing into fences...
What was behind each intention?

My mother in law says "dort dortlukken olmaz".

...Nothing is perfect.

Just then...!

a door slams in a face.

Repeatedly.



The old man. Strong iman.
With the bristle brush mustache,
He tells the strange story of his late brother in such a matter of fact tone...
You'd wonder if he ever shed tears - or how many walls he must have built up to cry behind after all of those years...


It's those closest to us that hurt us the most.
A word can be a dagger.
A phrase - a violent shake.
Accusations!
Shoot out into a slew of arrows.
But it's the Silence that sends us over as it just electrocutes the sorrows.


Pain is an unusual time traveler.
Sometimes it simmers to a stop! Or boils until HOT.


Drinking coffee too much? Check.
Dreaming too much? Check.

Instigating double-edged stings while meandering the meadows...
Yes.

And then.
There were.
The Bees.

I could stand in front of their glassed in hive for hours just looking for the queen.
Where was she???
 Deep in their trance. Eyes following their dance.
Noise.
Must be working overdrive.
Circling around.
Press against the capsule to hear a soft buzzing sound.
I'm there. In the crowd.
And so we come to the darkened layer under the hovering hum of anger.

Sadness.

Where to hide it?
Behind the glass wall?
Beyond the horizon?
Through the lock in the closed forevermore door?

And where's the door to reality?
The one I've been thirsting for?


If life has given me a blind eye to saturate its signs...
Would its opposite be obliged to teach me the divine?


The scholars say it's like walking arm and arm in the dark.
Marching forward.
Blindfolded.
Each person assigned to their own pit in which they'll fall to leave their mark.

Death,
the best reminder.

So while you have time... don't ask people why they never helped you.
Ask yourself why you never asked God for help in the first place.

Before reaching in to paint with your own heart's blood,
trust through and through - in what was written down for you...

So now
Deep in my garden
Eye to eye with a butterfly,
Dressed in all its shimmering glory,
Thin powdery wings proving the true strength and length of our story...
Feasting on its reward from the fragrant-filled flowers.
Oh...the parallel of a parable.
How I'm so relieved in what-
was promised is true.
There's no doubt in bloom.
World...you cannot save me...I'm wrapped up in your rooms.

I'm here...

for now....

Sabir...it's soon!


Then there's the flutter in my soul that hopes-
One day,
I, too
Shall fly...