This November

This November
I want to be a wild field
feeling into my bones
the surge of autumn,
surrendering and letting it all
fall down into the ground
to be cradled in darkness,
to know the meaning of long rest
and unperturbed sleep.

This November I want to go
deep down into my roots
to be acquainted again
with the nature of my being,
the stranger’s face, which is my face,
the face that I once loved
and must learn to love again.

This November I will let the summer wine
brew deep in my veins
with the warmth of its sun,
I will let my dreams
carry me over to the other plain
where spring arrives
with new wildflowers and fruits
and a renewed thirst for life
taking me to the edge of all that I am.


Free Verse # 454 (a trail of leaves)

أعاني من الأرق لأن نار وجهك تسكن أحلامي.


It is her fragrance
that sets the garden
into motion,
she walks in
and everything is alive
with light and love.


Unrecognized, our desires come to haunt us in the night.


Night does not exist in the city except as an anomaly.


This poetry
a trail of leaves
that I follow
deep into the forests
of my childhood,
into the deserts
and high mountains
of my longing,
reminding me of who I am
and who I want to be.


Wrapped up in his arms
she unwinds her day,
her breath and thoughts slowing down,
his embrace filling her
with safety and warmth,
as the world outside fades
and a single star shines
from the quietness of their belonging.


الحب هو وليد اللحظة، أما الصداقة فتبنى.

Love is the child of the moment, but friendship is built through time.

Haibun # 5

As I sip my morning tea, the autumn sun outside, like a warm, tender wave falls over the trees in the garden. Beside me, on the desk, a book calls to be read, as though it were the tender eyes of a woman I love, inviting me to delve into them. My heart is filled with a strange stillness and calm as leaves falls all around.

Autumn morning…
in all beginnings is sown
the seed of their end