sweet love of tunisia…

she sits
on the mountainside
she’s been there
more years
than most
can count
her beauty
and kindness
radiate
like a desert flower
still growing
in the harsh
sahara sun
loved ones
have long ago
made the journey
to heaven
some entered
the next level freely
of old age
others were swept up
by the anger
of tyrants
and now
she watches
as children
once held
in her arms
storm the barricades
hoping to taste
the sweet waters
of the oasis
of freedom
but
she knows
many shall not
break through
and their ashes
will join
with the sands
of others
and their voices
will wail
with the winds
in the night

medina walls….

framed photos
of children
lining the walls
of the old city
names whispered
in prayers
prayers offered
in behalf of a life
a life torn
from a mother’s womb
placed upon war’s altar
as a sacrifice
to intolerance
but like the sands
of the sahara
the names shift
forming the pillars
of resistance
that cannot be
destoryed
or moved
from within
the living
memory
of humanity
or anyone
with
a
soul

son of the desert…

shoes off
he runs
through the sahara sands
a desert fox
free from the city’s cage
no longer dashing
between motor scooters
and cars
that wind their way through the medina
in this haven
he moves among the tall grass
ears tuned to the sounds of
wind
jackals
and calves
each one moving toward
a common goal
a desert pool
hidden within these dunes
the giver of life
this is his playground
where he belongs
gently caressed by the sand
like his mother’s touch
when he is ill
warm
as when she presses him to her breast
soothing away all fears
and when he returns to the city
the desert’s arms
with fingers of sand
reach for him
as if afraid
to let him go

but what can i do…

the sand of the sahara
fears no man
nor pay homage
to graven images
on walls of up-scale malls
nor will it listen to your
whimper of
but what can i do
for it is the undefeated army
that marches on your cities
and villages
salting not only the earth of carthage
but every parcel of land in its wake
and it shall not stop
until you wake from your sleep
and see that one man is never alone
there is always another
standing in the shadow of fear
hidden from your view
within the ancient ruins
of political rhetoric
but you
you
do not hear
the timeless voices of the desert spirits
imploring you to listen
to see the vision of the future
when all that you will know
will be sand
sand
holding the ashes
of every conqueror of this land
and every dreamer
who chose
not
to
act

not that there’s a problem…

twenty years ago
the land that we’re standing on
wasn’t a desert
but i don’t bring this up
for any particular reason
not that there’s a problem
and once the desert fox
roamed freely these sand dunes
eating locust and rodents
that could decimate a family’s farm and health
but its fur is just too hard to resist
soft and cuddly as a new born child
so now they say it’s endangered
but don’t get me wrong
i’m not one of those
tree huggers or anything
i was just wondering about it
not that there’s a problem
and for some unknown reason
i was thinking about how one
could build a new hotel on the edge of the sahara
where each room uses enough water
for a family’s small garden
but heaven knows
i don’t want anything to change
my personal comfort
should come first
just a random thought or two
from an old man
who’s got nothing else to do
not that there’s a problem
more than likely it’s just some
hyped-up media story
printed on recycled paper