Oh Baghdad



A tear Jerusalem sheds
in a silent night

A rose an orphan placed
on caliph’s tomb

A dagger
cutting through a prophet’s soul




A thought

 in the inquisitive mind
of a renaissance philosopher

A river of blood

flowing between banks of pain

A sigh
coming from deep,
deep inside the heart of an Assyrian god



Oh Baghdad:


The flowers that grow in your soil
will have the shape of wounds
and the smell of fear



November 30, 2003