Cecile Sarruf ūüė¨

  • commented on lyricalnourishment 2019-04-21 23:33:04 -0700
    Will read and pay at door
  • published Aleppo in POETRY & PROSE 2018-07-17 13:52:16 -0700

    Aleppo

    allepo.jpg

    Everything is dying: the cats,the  dogs --- the people. Only birds live because they have the sky. Where there are entryways, there are stones. Walls are wretched gaping mouths to potential enemy lines. It was a sniper that got my sister and struck my mother, picked them out as they ran with water for the thirsty in their hands. Is this what fate looks like? The bus is on loan from the king of Jordan. He would not send his men, but he would send a bus for the thousands fleeing. I board the bus and take a seat in the middle, in case it blows up at the front or back. My brother Adel is racing down the street. Don’t leave me, he is yelling, his face caked with dirt and blood. He is all I have left. In his hands he holds a bag of bread. Women lay over rubble in their thobes like dead moths. Silence catches its breath between the sting of bombs that hit my heart.

    I used to love lamp light; the moon of the studious in university windows overlooking commerce and industry. I used to admire prophet like professors anointing the ignorant with prose of peace. Why do we leave? Because we must, if we wish to put our eyes on the heavens and claim a spot to call our own on this earth. I want to live. I want children to remind me of what happiness and joy sounds like because in these wars, we are robbed of everything, but hope.


  • published Reflections 2018-11-19 15:51:36 -0800

    Contact: Lee Weissman
    9492468567

    Advice to gardeners.  Tend your love like a tender drink trim it back to give it vigor train its tendrils to give it form and symmetry Love cries for care but yearns for freedom. Whether from neglect or boldness you drop the pruning shears loose the knots your tame garden will leap to to boundless jungle. We build You palaces for our prayers but You sneak out the back door to make Your home in the cracks of pavement. We bring you poems but You cling to whispers. We court you with grand gestures You prefer little acts of love. Your greatness is made known in Your humility.


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