Poems by Dr. Omar Sabbagh

The Music Of The Dead
Or
Evening Then Bliss
For love in a time of Corona

The evening sky
alights with this
gentle force more
like a soft tug
upon the tropical
colors the towers
still glow with here

in some miracle
city where you
convince yourself
against the knot
of life you are
not quite dead.

There is still in
all the stillness
a weakness
he can speak of
though across
the plains
of the evening
sky windswept

prairies like
axioms
for the free

tall blades
of grass the
green or just
off green
towers of sap

the wind from
the sky’s
evening’s falling
into grace
of a kind

to batter the world at last
with a few stray birds perhaps

and that kindness
making
some swifts kiss
and some swift kiss of forgiveness
happen.

The Book Between Morning And Morning
For Alia

There is no book like this
timeless between morning and morning.

The day begins again
and again and no more of
the same again with
this girl who travels distances
unravelling gifts
once wrapped in the smithy
of a deep red place that
cannot be forged anymore. 
No hot lane nor
kiln or pottery and no

pottering about anymore
has red ice enough to still this
name I find again
percolating in pins that mend
and seam so much and

with a svelte type of shock this
cradle sounds
outwards to the roundness of a whole
world founded and known
for a smile
ratcheting the beating ricochets
there.  There is no coverless
book like this
and no book ever was ever so coverless

no story or tale or lay
holds
an equal music quite
as resonant
as these semiotic sounds that
crave outwards
in the vivid sunlight
from her crystal
blue eyes.  Slowly now but
adamantine

I look to the north and find
a different place changed
in the mind echoing within
the same.  And the mind
has no weapons
except the heart which might move it so

the apt distance
which is quiet and infinite.

And the mind has no steel
rapture except
by the motor of the heart. 

And the laws of my reason now
wake in a graveyard where
felled pride falls
again and again and again. 
A girl now speaks

out from the book
of her happiness like no other
book ever.
Its words though its
traveling traveling words

and such invisible
print in such
invisible
print.

Dr. Omar Sabbagh 

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