Validated (Part II)

Every desert is testament to her understated elegance; even whilst devoid of rain, their roses still bloom in resonance.

With the majesty of medieval monarchy, the moon itself marvels at her magnificent mystery; conducting the stars as they sparkle brightest for her, since she is a symphony.

With every cup of her you sip—you slip further under her spell. You and all your fellow men were too quick to dismiss her as just another raven-haired rebel.

One thing becomes clear as you are hit by the guilt from her dreams you denied: you were threatened by the brilliance that blazes bravely behind her Bedouin eyes.

It is easy and quite simple to embrace equality; even the blind can see behind your problematic patriarchy. You are angered by the branch, despite your own status as the tree.

It's time you knew the truth and learned this ancient secret that was omitted from the holy texts:"Without her, even a rose is haggard—there is no beauty in her absence."

x

Vindicated.

Every desert is a woman—each one, mysterious, and alluring. No cartel or caravan could capture her despite their concerted efforts. Instead, she has them captivated; they covet her like treasure.

But she will not be bought by any bearded Bedouin! She cannot be collected in jars, or hidden away in some harem. Her Sahara will remain as free as the Arabian horse; only without a saddle can one truly experience the world.

She doesn't mind that her hair is streaked with dirt, or that the soles of her bare feet have turned black. Listen closely and you'll even hear them sizzling from the scorching Saudi sun.

A sly grin appears on her face as she performs a serpentine dance, intoxicating.
Like smoke, she moves with sinuous grace, slithering smoothly through these sombre Syrian streets.

Watch as her hips become hypnotists who stun through spins and twists like a mirage.
Listen to the jingle of the coins on her belt;
the same gold and silver some sultan or sheikh felt should measure her worth.

With battle cry, she removes her veil in violent defiance and whips it at the ground.
Unwilling to be a victim anymore by bleeding in the sand, her only demand is her freedom from their wicked government.

(Re)Missing

Once, when we were young, 
we fell head over heels in love;
felt like we'd been stung,
razors rained down on us from up above.

Oh how it hurts my lungs, 

once we were innocent as doves
I numb the pain with drugs, 

now that I have been disposed of.

As we argued more, 
push turned to shove, 
Now you've gone missing, babe. 
Take me back to yesterday.

Stopped by your place, 
but you've left for outer space, 
linger at your door, 
but you don't live here anymore. 

It's years since you've been there. 
And now you've disappeared 
somewhere; without a trace.
I'm lost without your sweet embrace.

And I miss you, yeah,
like infants miss their mother's face.
And I miss you, whoa,
you've left a mark I can't erase.

I just miss you, oh,
like a shoe without a lace,
I'm missing you, baby,
this emptiness won't be replaced.

I rang down your phone, 
so many times I cannot count,
your number is unknown, 
and all my emails even bounced. 

y sheets still smell like your cologne.

You haunt me when I'm feelin low.
Left your nest and now you've flown.
Where have you gone, where did you go?

Is our romance really blown?
Have you found a queen to share your throne,
My heart has turned to stone, 
ever since you left me all alone.

And I miss you, yeah,
like an immigrant, I feel displaced.
and I miss you, whoa,
like my favourite foods, I crave your taste.

Could it be you've been misplaced?
All my steps have been retraced.
How, I miss you, babe,
it'd take me weeks to count the ways.

And I miss you, yeah,
like infants miss their mother's face.
And I miss you, whoa, 
you've left a mark I can't erase.

I just miss you, oh,
like a shoe without a lace,
I'm missing you, baby,
this emptiness won't be replaced.

Now you're missing,
and I'm missing you; 
and although you're missing,
I'm still missing you.
And even if you're gone, 
Your spirit always seems to stay,

Escapism.

A paper boat wrestles with restless seas to stay afloat, as amber sun collides with cotton, cobalt-coloured clouds. 
Bruises decorate my blackened, battered soul, soon even sanity slips away unseen, into some careless crowd.

Caught in the rapturous aftermath of hope, this reckoning is one I'd rather skip.
Bind my idle hands with rope, next stitch up my damaged lips. Button up these barren eyes, before they believe another lie.

Malevolent magnets pull me in opposite directions, this tug of war romance won't be won with weapons. 
Heaven has to wait for me to revert to being holy, 
as eraser smudges have replaced all remnants of the old me.

This haphazard, hollow heartbeat has become a battle drum, it sets the season for my sorrow, and the tempo for my gloom. 
Grief, just like a paring knife, carves up my insides, 
cutting away the only parts of me that I ever liked.

Anger erupts inside of me until I burst then tear apart at the seams; as a byproduct of failure, I've been blessed with many broken dreams. 
This ire is louder than the air raid sirens that empty Iraqi streets, so I pray that landmines are only found underneath the sand below your feet.