Mina el Hosn

April 5, 2017

Endless waves collide
Against the sea-wall along
The promenade, each row
Of palm trees swaying in
The breathy wind coming
In off the Mediterranean.

Though Cyprus lies only
A few miles off-shore, it’s
Shrouded in the haze from
The forgotten ships that
Once lined these docks,
Trading goods from afar.

Beirut stands as it always
Has: ancient and modern,
A thousand languages and
Too many stories to count.
Now, it has become home
For those who have fled.

It may seem a paradise
Steeped in sunlight’s rays,
But these streets will speak
If you are willing to listen.
Voices as old as the waves
Always yearn for the sea.

MSBQ