Short Syriac Poems

I am the wanderer
the worshipper,
the lover,
a thistle bedizened
roseate deluge
gliding across the oasis,
each of my petals
secreting scents of
scarlet seduction

I am the wanderer
the worshipper,
the lover,
my hymns
brim with luminance
well before the
golden orb ascends to
crown the Syriac date palms
and cast its gaze upon
the apple of my
jet black eyes...

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(I)
In the
waning luminescence
of Syriac Orthodoxy,
the Assyrian choir,
enmeshed in the
twirling maelstrom of
Aramaic incantations,
cast seismic waves
through the beleaguered
decay of
Damascan alleys

(II)
Their creed,
an unweathered monolith
mimicking the
early Church Fathers,
is the boulder
that continues
to blunt the
sanguineous scimitar of
the Caliphate's domination...

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