Where The Cradle Lies

At the start,
Right before the night turns dark

The love-stained sky
Welcomed us with open arms,
Radiating its cordial colors:
Blush and runny tint of what erupts;
Held up by
Dark smoky clouds.

Then it blew
Its soft breeze,
Carrying traces of
Divine fragrance,

Bringing to us a
Murmur of prayers.

The earth fell silent
As the sky echoed
The call for prayer.

We immersed in
The breath of
What is familiar to us.

The damp, cool air
Whispered by our ears;
Kissed our jawlines.

I remember as children
We played
Under the steps.

And above sat Nana,
Her mouth moved to the verses she read,
Her legs stretched out on the stool.

The night falls dark
And immediately
The garden lamps are lit.

A Portrait of The Living

We found ourselves
Running in a boundless field,
Our ankles stroked by
Gentle stems of green

By sun-dried straws of hay
And sprouting from the soil,
Little white daisies smiling
Their youthful yellow glowing rays.

We raced under the clear blue sky;
Its arms stretched to
Declare through sudden gusts
Its victory over us.

We were nothing in comparison
To its grace and significance:
We trod proudly on the soil
As though the earth fell
Beneath our ruling hands.

Yet our feet sank
In the depth of the damp murky soil

And the hem of my sea green dress
Dipped and was left stained in
Wet greyish mud.

You held on to the loose ribbon
That once held my chestnut curls
And I was sure I was living
The portrait
Of a graceful beauty,
A childlike lover,
The naïve desires of sorrowful men.

Maryam A. Wajdi is a young Emirati poet, currently doing her Bachelors in Business Management and a minor in English Literature in the American University in Dubai. Her poems are scattered pieces of herself; stories stemmed from other stories. She is an admirer of all forms of art and aspires to make a difference in the lives of people around her through her works of literature.