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from the July 2011 issue: The Arab Spring, Part I

O My Libya

We’ll go with you wherever you may go.
Our palm trees blossom from your secret springs.
Your face redeems us.

When Nowhere’s left for you we’ll take your place.
You will always be us
when nowhere’s left to go.

The flower cranes its neck upon your door.
Arrogance avoids your path.

Nights frolic, their stars bright as suns.
The Pleiades usher in the dawn
where young girls weave green fields
       for that which is to come,

where grains of wheat melt
        into what the pigeons dream
who coo their songs for those close by,
        and those away,
their tune a bread infused with generosity.

Their graceful chorus sings beneath the archways,
nights when streaked rose petals
welcome those who drink yesterday’s waters

We’ll be there to ward off
that evil, to invoke the name God.
Let our soft prayers thunder out, o my country.

July 2011
The Arab Spring, Part I
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