Category Archives / Archif Categori: Poetry / Barddoniaeth

Gazing through the windows of the world:
Fleeting intimacies,
So far, and yet so near.

Chatting, meeting,
Facebook greeting.

The world is resting in our hands:
Fragile bird,
Shake it, break it.

All different, all equal,
Communication across our nations,
Connecting cultures.

The eyes are everywhere,
The wide world is being watched:
Capital, corruption, control.

Google maps,
Bird’s eye view.

Google map the Amman Valley,
You may see my face,
But do you always see me?

We can always see you.
Barcode Britain…

Stealing secrets,
Stealing biometrics.
The pointing fingers of cameras scan me,
But I am not an item,
I have a right to privacy,
You have no right to sell me.
How can I be a stranger
When they know my DNA code?
Enclosed by countless pairs of eyes
They catch me in their blinking gaze.

Gazing through the windows of the world.
But do you really see me?

The wide world is watching but do you really see me?

Her life is a patchwork of stories

From many times and many places,

And though she speaks mostly of glories

Photographs tell of missing faces.

Several languages, multiple lands:

She was supported by work of her hands.

-

Now, she mostly plays bingo with friends,

But listen carefully and you’ll hear

How her childhood came to an end,

How her husband drank far too much beer.

Don’t know; if he loved her; if he was her choice –

Suffices to say: ‘triple 0’ knew her voice.

-

Now, that’s not mentioned: Instead, she smiles,

And talks of reading poetry,

And cooking, and scenic miles

Populated by tall cedar trees.

In brief, she talks of all that time before

Her country was destroyed by senseless war.

-

She talks mostly of winning bingo,

But listen and you’ll hear in-between

Of how her friends put on a Hamlet show,

Of how she was once pretty and lean,

How a stray bullet hit her sister’s head;

Flew through the kitchen window – killed her dead.

-

It’s said in passing, yet with pain;

She’d rather speak of the food she’s made,

So it’s long before you’ll hear again

Of how much she sewed, how little paid,

Though she’ll gladly tell you who married who –

Perhaps that attitude’s what got her through.

-

Her speech is mostly filled with nothings.

Why not? Since nothings fill her present.

She’s engaging when drawn on to past things –

Languages she spoke, places she went.

She is a puzzle: hard to understand,

When you’ve so few pieces at your command.

-

Arabic is the language of her past.

With English she’s now forced to be content.

Fighting forced her to Australia so fast –

Still she feels it’s for Lebanon she’s meant.

Though artistic maps fill ev’ry vacant space,

Her country’s written in the lines of her face.

Who am I? Where is my true self? What stranger lies within… Dreams are a potent and powerful thing, powerful yet delicate, they have the power to shape our destiny, you succumb to your sub-conscious’ journey of the mind, like your imagination roaming unbridled. The night had fallen, it was as dark as the moonless night, covered in a blanket of stars, magnifying the silence, my eyes were heavy and droopy, my thoughts floated aimlessly, like shiny shooting stars, I started to drift off into another world….

**********

I saw a reflection in a mirror, that was covered in layers, but the first one lifted off, like a raw onion being peeled. The onion’s layers were me. It was fear to leave first. She started to wither away, vulnerable. Shunned with a sense of hopelessness, piling up with despair and agony. The misty world of the shadow called in all darkness for the shadow represented an image of death. The fear of the unknown. Who am I? Where is my true self? What stranger lies within….

Something had changed, the girl in the reflection…was smiling. For one must look beyond the superficial surfaces. She was happy, overjoyed – she had love. The mystery only sinks deeper. So, if I am not happy…Who am I? Where is my true self? What stranger lies within….

The last layer was removed. It contained hope and belief. Hope in spite of all terrors. Hope no matter how long or how hard the road might be. For my mind and body was refreshed and renewed like a spirit waiting to be reborn. Who am I? Where is my true self? What stranger lies within…

It was time to peer through, the secret windows of the soul. The secrets that lost its curtain for protection. For the veil had been removed. All that was left was the core. The heart, the soul. There was an aura of emotions, a rainbow pallet of emotions….

Like an onion, life is a constant discovery. It has its layers gradually peeling, peeling and peeling away. ‘Till the heart and innermost core is discovered.’ It add taste, zest and a sharp and sweet quality that enriches our lives. I now know the truth. I am all of these things – I am complex, unique and am constantly changing and evolving. Who am I? Where is my true self? What stranger lies within….

It is me

It is you

It is us.

The stranger lies within everyone

We are strangers to ourselves…