Haiku # 731

النمش في بشرتها
قصيدةٌ سكَبَها اللهُ
نبيذاً في جسدها

To the wind they fall…
white flowers in spring,
red leaves in autumn

‏الفاجِعة في عينيّ أمي
عمرها من عمر
موت أختي

‏في عصرِ موتِ الشعر
أكتبُ لأحيا
في أُغنيةِ عُصفور

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The Sacred Longing

At the core of each of us
there is a sacred longing,
an ever burning flame
that quivers with divine light,
it is the restless source
ever pulling at our heart,
turning our pain and sorrow
into its own exquisite wine,
it is the voice of God
in a quiet moment,
it is the rose opening us
to the eternity of the sky.

There is a sacred longing at the core of each of us, it’s how God taps into our hearts, uniting us all through the grace of Love.

The Nest

A small bird
pecks the ground
looking for small twigs
to make its nest.

I, sitting close by,
reading my book,
wonder if I’m not doing the same,
searching amid the words
for little twigs
to make my own nest,
the nest that will warm
my soul and heart.

Yet I know,
no matter how far and deep
I search, no matter
the twigs I find
and the worded nests I build,
no nest will truly hold my soul
and keep my heart warm
as the palms of your hands
cupping my aging face,
as your love holding me
through this long life.

Haiku# 730

‏صباحٌ ربيعيّ
أينما ذهبت ترافقني
رائحة الياسمين

Spring morning rain…
I balance on the edge
of a soft, quiet dream

‏حياتي المُنعزلة
ورقةٌ بيضاء تنتظرُ
همساتْ الريح


My secluded life
a white paper awaiting
the whispers of the wind

Spring Morning Rain

Spring rain,
its sudden fall
in the early morning
shakes all the orange blossoms
from their fragrant sleep,
and they wake to fill the air
with their orange breath
mixed with the scent of the earth
as it rises wet from the kiss
of the spring morning rain.

Haiku # 729

‏كأنّ في قلبي شمعةٌ
كلّما أغمضتُ عيناي
رأيتُ في نورِها وجهَكِ

To my heart’s candle
every time I close my eyes
I see your face

Fermant mes yeux
je vois ton visage
à la lumière de mon cœur

Haiku # 727

Travelling through the woods
to find me in my bed…
birdsong at dawn

Tanka# 216

As I touch you
a silence enters my heart
and I become still
like a garden
in the light of dawn

Writing as Worship

I spill my soul
into the poem
and it takes the shape
of her body,
shines with the light
of her face.

My poem is a journey
winding amid the white hills
of her grace.

I write as if to glimpse
beyond the veil that hides
her endless mystery.

I write because writing
is a form of worship.

Haiku # 726

Clouds and wind…
immersed in the breath
of this great earth

I often feel that the winds and clouds are the breath of the earth, that we are all engulfed in a single breath, sustaining us, keeping us alive, shrouding us in its great, endless mystery.

The Ultimate Gift

In a city of constant noise
you were the silent beauty
which presence lifted me
into a higher realm of harmony,
who opened up higher worlds for me,
filled me up with passion
and gave me the ultimate gift,
the kiss of poetry.

Haiku # 725

From their treetops
the crows already see
the coming year

Last day of the year…
amid the bare trees I walk
on my solitary way

My lonely path
into the new year wanders
between bare trees

This, my life,
I animate with my heart
and live as poetry…

New year
old resolutions
this life of poetry

Haiku # 724

تمُرُّ بجانبي
أحبُسُ أنفاسي لأتَنَشقْ
رائحةَ عُطرِها

Clear winter night
the silent stars fill
my heart with wonder

In the puddle at my feet
rippling
the winter moon

Cold winter night
under the moonlight
two lovers holding hands

The Poet’s Life

A poet lives a lonely life
that he may shape birds
out of his own heart
that he sends flying
into the deepest forests
and over the highest mountains
to enliven the mist of the world
with the warmth of his song

Haiku # 723

Through the leafless branches
peeking as I walk
the winter moon

Things Invisible

There are things invisible
whose presence is known only
by the way they affect others
such as the wind passing through
or kindness for no reason given
or the way your beauty
makes light glow around your skin
or the way my love bends the world
in a hymn song for you

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.

Haiku # 722

Autumn begins…
lying in the grass I guess
the shape of the clouds

لوجودها في حياتي
رائحة الأرض العطشى
بعد مطر الخريف

للذكريات حفيف
أنصت إليها وأنا أتأمّل
تساقط أوراق الخريف

You speak my heart better
than all their words…
moon in the sky

Looking at her hurts…
so much love
I can not speak

First days of autumn…
writing poetry
to the light of the moon

My heart melts
with infinite softness
as I look at you

Though apart
between us a thread
weaved by the moon

Autumn begins
and my heart wanders
in dreams of endless white

Summer evening
what the stars whisper
I hear in my heart

‏هذا الشعر
ضوءُ شمعةٍ بهِ أتلمَّس
تفاصيلَ وجهكِ

Haiku # 721

‏قصيدةٌ غيرُ مُنتَهية…
مرتجِفاً كورقة خريف
سأتركُ هذا العالم

‏حرُّ الصيف
لا يدفئ عظامي
التي تتوقُ اليكِ

This life is a dream…
opening our eyes
the fog dissipates
into an endless white

‏الحياةُ حلم
نفتح عينينا ليتبدد الضباب
على نورٍ لامتناهي

‏هذهِ الكلمات
قصيدةٌ صداها
يعودُ إليَّ فقط

Haiku # 719

‏سبعُ سنينٍ يا أُختي
ما زِلتُ أبكي كلما
رأَيتُكِ في حُلُمي

‏حُبُْها في قلبي
برعمٍ أبيض نضِر
مكسوٍ بحبيبات الندى

‏قصيدة الهايكو
وحدها تنصت
إلى سكونِ روحي

‏خفيفٌ كالغيم مرورَكِ
لكنَّهُ يجعَلَني أَحلُم
بما وراءَ الجبال