the heart of Al Balad,
beams.
Moon-eyed boys,
charcoal faces,
dance the now,
jumping into the joy of yesterday.
Humbled by Hejazi’ hospitality,
we journeyed into stories,
remembered
that neighborhood
was family.
The heart,
the world.
Rested our wishes on wood,
then in the air
to branch out,
to bloom
some breaths away,
where camels and people
relive the holy voyage.
retell what resists to fade,
yearns
to be
celebrated,
acknowledged
before all
spoke of love.
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