July 19, 2010

Dear Children: there are some things you may not know
but need to know

That flowing through your veins
is a long river of ancient blood
running through historical cities which smoulder on fire

Our features are most distinctly characterized
by our almondine brown eyes,
eyes which have seen too much
eyes which lapse into dreams
whether open or shut
Arab eyes

Eyes which others ask to gaze upon
to drink and swim in and be haunted with
and be gazed upon by
not knowing exactly why

Your grandmother is the decisive one
though true that her mother was half-Circassian
and her father reputed to be a Kurd
whose lineage goes back to being
Black from the sandy wastes of the continent
which they vainly and erroneously Christened "Africa"
though her mother was a Shiraz honey
claimed by Persia on her father's side

She herself was a purple Rose of Cairo (a real one)
and a Beauty of Baghdad
a Tigress of the Tigris
and faithful daughter of Iraq

Her dusky resplendence haunts all my dawns
and she goes on where you go
she is what you are dimly aware of
you sense and feel her
as you do your own father
in unguarded moments
when those Arab eyes close and flutter, dreaming
or are wide open, also dreaming
of another world which we came from
and long for
and embody

Watch the sun rise over the sea
feel the dancing sands of evening in the desert
embrace the cool breeze of Arabian autumn nights
edge around the bustle of Khan Khalili
dip your feet in the timeless Tigris
Share a confidence with the Sphinx
which crouches under the Great Pyramid
which your father climbed as a boy:
in these places you may find your own bearings.