LANDER Posted March 10, 2004 Rebirth Under The Acacia Tree BY SAID OMAR MOUSSA It was an hour, an hour of truth It was a day, a day usurped by the beast It is a time, a time of rebirth. In the heyday of hope in a youthful jest I answered a yearn for a beautiful dream. And..... Wanton field of thorn and weed, The air was pregnant with sour seed Dark clouds of menace were swooping down, Togdheer was bursting with bitter hue Rain of fire dawned on the fleeing, Under the acacia tree Hargeysa was seething You shed my blood with meaningful ease, Contempt you showed for my solemn plea Surreal, we fondly embrace the dead, And held high their lifeless head Wrapped in this moment of clarity, Illusion dissipated, Bitter bright sky came here to stay. Rinsed away my shame with thy blood, Oh! sweet blood it was indeed And now my bride is liberty, I say no! To jest and youthful folly Scorned sacrifice and soiled gift, No more will I give, that which I cannot give Heed not son, the hissing serpent, Draped in a splendid shawl of deceit Seduce not, by a wished for crown, Walk only on the here and now. The beast was slain under the Acacia tree The beast is dead! Long live the free! Striped of facade and falsity, Our bond were long soiled by cruelty Look, how you pine for lordship over me, Yet, you counsel the virtue of brotherhood to me And now that your brute failed to subdue me, By your pitiful lot you want to entrap me Look, how you still nurse a fruitless conquest, Thus you fashioned Arta in the beast likeness You fan the flame of false glory, And then decry your utter misery. Scorned sacrifice and soiled gift, No more will I give that which I cannot give. How dare you sing sweet song to me Saying come in love, come in faith, Come into this dungeon of despair Come in shame, come in guilt, Bring thy shackles to the fair Come by fear, come with tear, Come back to the burning bosom, dear. Hebo is mine, Hebo is me, I will turn this ruin into a field of dream I sigh with joy for what I have seen, For death ceased to walk amidst the youth Thus, graveyards turned to a blooming green, And blushing roses smiled with soothe Old men reflect under the acacia Tree, High there, Nomad relishes their valor with glee Enchanted maiden swirl and swoon, Lovers croon under the waning moon Hoden is fair, Hoden is Fierce, By Allah's mercy I will own my fate. O Heart! Fear not, the serpent fury, O Heart! Grief not, for the slain beast O Heart! be grateful and rejoice in thy grace, O Heart! be merry and pray for thy soul And say nay to forlorn! And say nay to doubt! Take back your mantle under the acacia tree. By Said Omar Moussa sayiedmou@yahoo.com Quote Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
