A Lonely House in the Steppe - 1

Through a tear in the wall, the sunlight peeks, No one comes to ask how the old woman speaks. How does she endure, so forlorn and alone? Only God could be her aid, her own. The horizon stretches, the vast land appears, Silence reigns, with no bustling to hear. It gnaws at the nerves, this solitude deep, In the city's chaos, she could never weep. From the window, a glimpse of the scene, A child’s cry cuts through, sharp and keen. The oil lamp flickers, casting soft light, A grandmother cradles her dear one tight. “Oh my little one, oh my sweet child,” Her shoulders shake gently, her heart’s gone wild. The baby writhes, life’s pulse in the air, The old woman’s sorrow is too much to bear. She prays to the heavens, seeks solace in cries, Her gaze flickers round, as hope slowly dies. Day and night, worry eats at her soul, Sleepless and weary, she loses control. Her eyes, like the steppe, are weary and dim, Not a tear falls, as she clings to the hymn. Life and death dance in a bitter embrace, This lonely house holds a haunting space. Blue Smoke In the bustling city, the blue smoke swirls, People jostle, a crowd in a whirl. Cars stuck in traffic, the movement is slow, Faces are grim, with no hint of glow. In the jam, they’re forced to remain, Cursing each other, it drives them insane. In this vast city, what’s life’s true cost? Does anyone care if a soul is lost? You tire, you struggle, you long for release, You rant and you rave, seeking some peace. Gradually, you learn to comply, But who can you turn to when you sigh? Like an ant hill, swarming and tightening, You will be found among people fighting. A Doctor’s Journey A car approaches, steady and bright, Inside, Doctor Qusayin, a beacon of light. His healing touch brings hope to the ill, His fame spreads wide, a testament to skill. Not a man drunk on accolades or praise, He cares not for honors in life’s fleeting maze. If he saves but one from death’s cold hand, His spirit rejoices, in peace he will stand. Was he sent forth by fate or by grace? Was this journey chosen, a path to embrace? Rising in haste from his bed with a start, He finds himself caught in a twist of the heart.