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The Twelve Angels of Beirut

They huddle together in the heavens
Muttering amongst themselves
Confused as any human down below

We bestow upon them the ancient teachings
Not once, not twice, variations to please all walks of life
Yes thrice

They may choose the ancient books they follow
They may keep the traditions yet must adapt to modern intellect
Such literate men who seem not to read

Who can cast his eyes at his child?
Feeling nothing but love and endearment?
Who pray tell us is displeased to arrive at his home at dusk?

Angels we twelve have nourished
We have showed you both love, morality and compassion
Yet ye who divides faith, chooses battle

You so easily prefer to drink blood
Rather than bestow a red rose upon breast
Olive trees so ripe have no meaning at all for you

Like a tree that reaches the sky
All things change, as evolution’s duty dictates
Yet you fight to keep perceptions frozen in time

You cover a woman’s face
When its you who should hide in shame
Modesty is how we bestow good deeds to strangers

It is how we look at our hearts in the mirror
A woman’s beauty should shine to the heavens
Competing only with a mans debonair style of chivalry

Honor you mother and father
Honor your tribe
Not with traditions and rented cloth

Honor with your whole heart
Feed the poor and kiss your enemy on both cheeks
The skies will become your friend

We sit here waiting in torment and anguish
Crying to the heavens that surround us
We gave you hearts and minds

You return us blood and bombs
We are ashamed of our duties
For we have obviously failed you

Forgive us, you tribes of the three branches
We are the twelve angels of Beirut
Whose tears give you your sea

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