To The Woman, Who loves me in Tunisia by the sea the salt in air almost makes one believe the moments bleached in the sun. down the shore a green cafe where a revolution is being birthed. a coup of the culture. minds liberated. souls deteraited. blood will flow innocense deamed guilty the lawless rewarded with earths raped treasures. for now only for now everyone smiles. the fear, hidden in a moment waiting to arrive. the weather has been miscalculated as blessed. No storms yet, blowing in from the darkening sea. if we are to survive. we will have to fight. we may have to kill, kill again & again. we may have to do what the angels forbid. as we walked the woman from Tunisas hand intwined with mine all foot steps in exact sequence for our last day before the red storm. she whispers something to me in her native tongue in outer world hidden words. i would understand once the awaken man. words so powerful so veiled so clear only for my soul, were these words crafted. the meaning only apparent after the event. as the jeweled graceful defianant daughter of Tunsia would tend the fatal civil wounds in a battlefields tent. and for a fleeting moment there in the dying sun the spirit screaming in the air the flower wilting in her darkened hair. the tears gathering faster than the storms in her almond eyes. i attempted in pure faith to believe in more than man taming the sea.
Posted on: Wed, 23 Apr 2014 17:20:27 +0000
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