seen from the othere side
as seen from the other side of the border
In the night the easterly wind picked up
windows and doors rattled
I was greatly worried a new voice from
The Middle East – an Arab voice- was loud
forceful, clear and menacing.
For too long had the people been corrupted
by western influences saying one thing while
practising the opposite.
The voice was harsh an uncompromising
void of charity and tolerated no objection,
the voice of those who had been oppressed too
long and forced to nurture a voracious crow,
a colonial outpost of European misfits,
a cancer on the Arabic soul.
A, time speak to me is it not at this moment right
for western powers to leave and let the game
plays itself out and let blood run into the sand?
In the backyard dervishes of dust danced faster and
Faster and scoured clean the fraudulent past.