Hum Once More
If pearls are said to be the tears of god,
then she has worn mine on her neck.
If you are the diamonds to which I am Saturn,
then I have worn your ring on my finger.
If fire is said to be weaved onto skin of honey,
then he has worn my burning heart on his sleeve.
“Hum for brother dear,” she sings, “hum for me.”
“Hum for love, brother dear,” she sings, “hum for peace.”
In The Arms of Ruins*
I wait for the luster the maidens vowed I would see,
the strength the men of war vowed I would feel,
the sword of yellows the elders vowed I would hold,
the hills of asters the young vowed I would run through,
the roots the ground vowed would bind my limbs,
the fortunes the teller vowed would give my way,
the wounds the chaired boy vowed would heal,
the blood gushing the robed figure's hands vowed would cease.
As my soul withers away.
*An ode to no one.
A Love Letter to Venus
A tale within a tale within a tale,
of rosewood tips upon golden velveteen,
and soft draws of breath,
emanating floral harps,
that sing into the hearts of what remains.
A tale within a tale within a tale,
carved by the daughter of Jupiter,
out of grief, loss, and honeycombs,
to encrust her hands with gold,
and hold it against the blaze.
A tale within a tale within a tale,
a shell ferried ashore,
birthing a seraph of crystalline eyes, velveteen skin,
and lips armed with a bow of sugarcane,
shelling floral arrowheads into the hearts of comers.
A tale within a tale within a tale hold the tips of his brush.
______
POETRY:
RAYANA ALBUSAILI
SAUDI ARABIA
PHOTOGRAPHY:
LAMA AL JALLAL
KUWAIT