and then we rose
rose from the ashes
to blossom in the streets
rose from our pain
from our fears and our grief
rose for our rights
we rose to unite
we rose our arms
of flesh and bone
we rose for home
and then we rose
- an ode to the egg
the egg building in downtown beirut, like many others, was destroyed, abandoned and zoned off to become a carcass. a ruin of the war. shunned from the people it was built for. a space made dead, a dead egg. plopped in the centre-ville to rot, a rotten egg.
since the revolution began a month ago, this egg has been resurrected. its skin colored, and insides filled, with life and an unfathomable energy. people hosting lectures during the day and music events at night. climbing on top and filling its void.
it was revived by the people. people who see the potential & know the country in a way that our politicians zooming through the city in tinted cars can’t - they have a tinted, distanced view of the nation they govern. people on the streets, walking the streets, day to day, living among the carcasses, see the space in a way they never will.
here’s to a reflection of self and revolution of identity, to look into ourselves and reclaim our space.
portraits of flowers i buy, am given or find in the night-fueled streets of beirut.
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bitter flight
in beirut’s belly
I was born to be
a big bad bully
bought-out by brutes
that used my insides
blasting bullets from my eyes
for their baleful pursuits
built broad back then
and brought down men
thirty
five
stories
blasted
bringing blitz and blues
abandoned, abused
a monolith
a concrete blanket
of buldging black holes
filled with bloodshed
now banned from all
my bruised body stands tall
my presence uproots
any buried thoughts
of blazing shots
& buried bodies,
of our mothers’ babies
no longer visited but often viewed
whether beloved or abhorred
as a bitter sight