THE VALE OF PEACE
endless days of desert
now lit dimly, fadedly.
no light, no shadow, no relief;
the dunes of wasteland hated me.
finally, it accepted me.
and I fall to
my knees and I thank Death.
in the great old vale of peace
a million stones and graves,
amongst flies and dogs and fleas
scouring as death’s slaves.
I walk and walk avenues
of funeral fog, deathlike silence…
aglow, at peace and tranquil
under a starry Najaf sky…
the sand sang slowly, creepily,
and camels ventured the night
through the violent, southern gales.
but the storm retracted instantly,
then slept with grace and might
over all the rifts and vales.
the
caravans were surely sullen
in gravest
dire awe,
for it is
prince that they bury tonight.
the nomad
council ordered
in respect
of death’s dark maw,
thus, to
shut the light.
the prince of the Lebanese cedar woods
to the south of Dimašq and to north of al-Quds,
and of the
Byzantines to the west
is forever
laid to rest
at the grace of Lords’ behest.
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