Paint the windows black,
Turn the light off,
Hide your head in the sand,
And maybe tomorrow will come.
Pack the house with supplies,
Is there gas in the car?
Are the children all right?
Will tomorrow ever come?
Has my neighbor's house got bombed?
Are the roads all wrecked and broken?
Is that fire in the horizon?
Or the sun, just turning down.
Is the sky tearing up inside?
Thundering, roaring in rage and fury,
Is the rain falling for the heavens?
Or just bullets, drizzling down.
When has quiet turn to screaming?
Did the birds of peace take flight?
War has started while we're sleeping,
And tomorrow might never come.
© Sherine Meshad, 17 July 2006
Calm waters, a single line,
Hook and sinker trailing behind
Wait is long as time stands still,
In the middle of an ocean, where all is well.
***
Thoughts and memories go through the mind
Of a fisherman awaiting fortune to unwind
The morning sun is bright in the heavens
As land beckons waves to shore
***
"The deep" whispers in a voice unheard,
As hook is tangled in the catch's gorge,
Twisting and turning in anguished plea,
Skipping over waters, begging for sea.
***
The line is tout, hands bringing in
A cumbersome prize, a trophy, a win!
And as it struggles to remain alive,
In a battle of wills the encounter is finalized.
***
© Sherine Meshad, 6 July 2006
