Golden Sinai sands caress my weary toes
skin smooth as stone from erosion of travel
in my beloved desert.
Caring not for wars of so-called holiness
to the left, to the right.
Where purity meets blood on borders.
Belonging to the shifting earth
believing in her deliverance.
I against my brother, my brothers and me against my cousins, then my cousins and I against strangers
Can’t you see my suspicion?
You, who judge me on the colour of my
My priority is my bayt and kin within
my business is feeding and nurturing
and they say nothing grows in the desert.
I am no djinn,
just a man
just like you.
My face may be hidden,
traditions strange and foreign
but this is my freedom
not for you to judge.
A photograph close to my heart. Goes out to my family in Syria and the Lebanon, and although we are estranged, I carry the Bedouin still in my heart, but haven’t gone as far as my sister in having it tattooed on her back 😉
تكون آمنة بلدي الأحباء، كنت احمل معي يوميا
Submitted for one shoot Sunday over at one stop poetry.