**** plunging short black dress,
Maroon lipstick, just so,
Perfume sprayed
Just a hint here, here and also here,
Clutching the purse
she steps out;
Entrapment laid.

There he awaits,
blinded by beauty and lust,
not aware
the trap has been set.

A light brush of cheeks,
perfume inhaled deeply,
Smitten, trapped.

Coyly smiling,
this is too easy, she thinks.

Death beckons us all
It is like change
Always present
Always a little frightening
Sometimes sad
A little threatening
Whomever you think your Maker is
Death will direct your soul to him/her/it
Whether you think you ascend to the heavens or
Become nutrient for trees
Each abiding just waiting
Life a living
Too much to bear
Too little sometimes
Through it all, I’ll hold your hand
I’ll be there
I’ll hold your hand
I’ll hold your hand

It used to be that Ramadan was a month of fasting, prayer and contemplation
Of those who don’t have enough not just for a day but for a lifetime;
Now, it appears Ramadan is a month of feasting and shopping
And extravagance and lavish spending!

Oh Lord, show me your love they speak of that flows like lava down an erupted mountain
Oh Lord, speak to me with your voice so tender that silences the Leviathan
Oh Lord, who calms rough seas and opens up paths across oceans
Won’t you speak now so I can know?
That voice that trembles the enemy
That voice that shakes the earth’s core
That voice that moves rugged mountains
Speak, so I can be moved too!
................................................
The thunder raged,
The skies poured down rain,
Oh, hush elements!
Can’t you see I’m trying to hear the Lord speak?!
The flowers sprung after the fresh rainfall covered the earth,
The grass swayed in the wind and flew far and wide,
The butterflies fluttered about and the birds started to sing,
I could not hear my Lord.
Why so silent? Always silent!
Go on, speak to me with your voice so I have to cover my mouth like Job and hush
Go on, Speak!
The rain drizzled,
This time slowly washing off the filth from the windscreen
Not realizing the plank in my eye and the clot in my ear,
I refused to get rid of....
Oh Lord! Speak to me!
Still I shouted and whined like a baby without its bottle...

I was watching TV
and the topic on the Geriatrics Show
was Life Support Systems -
you know, about how people are kept
on pipes and machines and tubes and liquid
and I hollered to my wife in the kitchen:
“Darling, if ever I become life-dependent
on liquids and machines, just get rid of ‘em
and free me…”

“Sure thing,” my faithful wife said
and she turned off the TV
and my cell phone and my laptop
and she emptied my bottles of wine and whisky
and then she turned to me and she said:
*“I just freed you.”

My sister my all
You have risen
Even though
Many times you fell
Like night begets day
You shine for all
With your beloved beside you
Your mission you recall
Though impossible it appeared at times
You labored on
You conquered all
Now stand you proud and tall
With the cap on your head
Another feather to behold
You smile and welcome it all
My sister my all
Though far be us all
We gladly applaud your achievement and all
One mountain down
Many more to come
Rest for a while and let the feeling linger
You did it
You did it all!