The Beauty Issue: Poetry Roundup
07-07-05 by A.A Saba
1.
Now be quiet river
He will never taste you again
Be still wind
You will never caress his honey skin again
Hush sweet earth
He will never touch you again
Let time die for a moment
Let this day be absent for this life
Let the stars stop shining, for my eyes have been robbed of a sweet soul
2.
Now the street of Babylon are bloodied then before
Brother kills brother
Neighbour murders neighbour
And the value of a life has lost it's significance
Never has a soul been so cheap
Never has the sorrow been so painful
So take my hand Sjeherazade
And blindfold me
Lead me away from it all
Help me to turn my back to the sweet palm trees and to the memory of the golden river of Eufrid and Tigris
Let me leave Bint el-huda alone in the darkness where all my sisters are sleeping
Let me run away from my mother
Ya Fatimah el-zahra a.s
Your blood runs in my vain but it is to strong for this old body of mine
It is to warm for my icy vain
3.
-where is my brother?
-he is resting in the other room, he is fine, he is ok...
-don't lie to me, his head fell on my knee and no breath left his lips
The king of Babylon left us alone and lost like never before
Mesopotamia has lost a weaponless soldier
Our world has lost the last guardian of light without knowing it
4.
Be quiet river
Be still wind
Hush earth of Babylon
You will never feel him again
You have lost his touch
But we have kept his memory
Be quiet
Be still
Hush
Are You Sure You're Asian? by Aria Mallare
You can't hold a color wheel against
My skin and tell me that you
Don't believe that I'm Asian just because
You think that my skin
Is too dark to paint your walls
You can't exclude me from the table because I don't “eat cats and dogs” or because my plate is filled with food you refuse to try
You can't mix all of my people into a por flavored with your fantasies and delusions
It is not your place to package and label us
When you don't even know what's inside Asia is more than three countries and Is home to 4.5 billion people
My reflection in the mirror is not what defines the blood coursing through my veins It is not what tell me where my roots are planted
Nor is it what draws the branches on my family tree
So do not ask again if I am sure that I am Asian