Take me into the mountains.

Run off with me in the sand.

Mend my heart in the desert.

Calm my soul with your land.


Arab Face

They call out to it,

the Arab face

they are so sure

they see.


They offer gifts,

some tea, their sons

to a familiar face

…to me.


Eyes lower,

crestfallen when

they realize

their folly.


But you have an

“Arab Face”

they say quiet,

desolate, confused.


“Those are Arab

eyes and hair…”


I hide my lying

Arab Face

but cling to true faces

in my mind.


For to see an

Arab Face

is to fall in love

for all time



Stare into the desert,

into the rocks, the cracks

the red.


Find your soul amongst the

sand, the tiny crystals,

the stone.


Look for answers in the sky,

the sea, the sparing weeds

the caves.


And when you’ve lost all of

you- your heart, your mind,

your pride-


then give yourself to the desert,

pure and vulnerable, sweet

and kind



Stem the flow

of the heart’s lament.


Stop liquid

hemorrhage in its tracks.


Restrain the

rumination and deprecation.


Let sand jam

the soul that leaks its life.


When you have a face like this,

of nowhere and everywhere,


mosques are unveiled to you,

and synagogues laid bare,


churches and their steeples,

of all denominations,


find a way to welcome you,

face of all nations.



My identity

is comprised of

different colored,

little bits of me.


Shards of marble, gold,

ashes here and there,

intertwined so that my

soul is split and shared.


As I roam the earth

searching for where

the life of me



I find the cold,

hard truth of me

crosses many a

thousand life spans.



Seduce the trusting

people who feel your

blood calling to theirs.


Let them taste the sweet

familiarity of common

warmth and knowledge.


Allow your soul to house

their hope and stash

yours in their welcome.


And then the moment

comes, as moments do,

to let down the veil.


Disappoint the world,

with your mercurial

eyes, tongue and hair.


Betray those who would

love you if you could

stay still in their hands.


Destroy the borders that

bind brother to brother

and sister to sister.


Be the criss-cross of those who

murder each other and

wreak havoc on their conscience.


Raise them up so high,

to crash them down-

a walking disappointment.



A love on the landmass

slices through the Dead Sea.


It clings to the sand dunes to the East,

it hugs the border to the West.


An unrequited love spans the ages,

and kisses the sand softly as it passes.


It cuts itself upon the rocks and

is grateful for its wounds,


for if blood still spills across the orange,

then love still lives amongst the dunes.



God bless the nomads,

the people on the land


Without a home to speak of,

no warmth to lick their hands.


God bless the missing,

those people who are gone


never to return where they

may be safe from harm.


Dead Sea

Across the Dead Sea,

I reach out to you,


wishing that you’ll

feel the brush of my hand.


Across the Dead Sea,

I call out to you,


hoping that you’ll

hear my prayer.


Across the Dead Sea,

my heart appeals to you.


begging that you’ll

halt its heartache.


Run Into You

There’s so much I want

to say to you,

so much I want

to ask.


So many questions,

in my head,

so many things I want

to know.


You seemed to have all of

the answers,

the world an atlas in

your mind.


I want to share

my thoughts,

and hear all that you

might think.


I want your clever

quips about

the people that

we see.


I want to hear the tales

and stories

that you always told

to me.


I want to know your


and I want to search

for truth.


But you are so far


and I am here



You are seeing

other things,

with people I

don’t know.


But I’ll write all of

my questions

right here on my



so should I ever run

into you,

these questions I

will ask.


Like, how can black and

white exist

where there is so

much gray?


And why do people’s hands


so different when

they pray?


Google may just have

the answers,

but not with your

special hue.


So I write all of

my questions

right here on my



Because one day I’ll run

into you

and these questions I

will ask.



Feb. 2015

The Liberated Polyglot

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