Just a little east of Middle.

May 9, 2011

Lebanon I am

Lebanon, I’ve been meaning to write you for a long time.
Lebanon, I have maybe thought more of you in the last 10 years than I should have,
knowing you for so short a time.
And I know, Lebanon, that I still don’t really know.

Lebanon, I am your least expected, popping up where you least expected.

Lebanon, I am softly closing toes around your
tarsals, and you are walking padding dancing about
with my heels on your phalanges, feet on your feet on
the carpet on the floorboards on the supports on the wires
that bring you government electricity for hours
each day
It’s okay, I know how to restart the generator.
Don’t cry.
Don’t let the anger seep out. (not into the streets. not again.)
We can sit in the dark and
            Kisskisskiss        until    the tv comes back on
Let’s tell stories (Levanon) of our opposite
childhoods  one of inner war                        one of
outer                        war
Both afraid of our mothers    both    afraid
                                                            (of each other)
Let me fight your battles, no, stand next to you in battle
I can turn my passion into rage
if that’s what you need
if that’s what will feed            your smoke-kissed
And the politicians
that bring you government electricity for hours
each day
It’s okay, I just need to go downstairs
and            we don’t really need to see the
news                        we don’t need to see

Somewhere there is a man
whose black robes count as influence
There is a man who says what he means
and follows though on
            what he says,

But Somewhere in the Chouf Mountains
   there is a beekeeper
who also says what he means and
means what he says
            And I do not understand
why we listen      to the man who
hides his whole body when he speaks
            more than the man
who covers his face with only a net
       when he goes to remove the


  1. I think Lebanon wants you back. You can dance on the dirt that wants to kisskisskiss your feet again. And (if the jealous land will permit it), you and I can share some air together too.

  2. Inshallah, lady. If there's a way, we will do it!