Land of Canvases
I keep turning and searching pages from my life
searching for a timeless chapter,
looking for some distant, sun-stamped land.
Endless deserts existed.
Horizonless sunsets.
Intricately woven dawns, finer than Bedouin yarn.
Strokes of gold from the Arabian Sun, brushes of azure from the Red Sea.
We saw lapis lazuli twirling with the sky’s crochet,
Exploding into an exhibit of stunning pastels.
My canvas hung not on the wall, but next to the clouds.
Silver threads from moonlight, gem-like beads from Nomadic women.
The night sky felt starless.
My canvases hung not on the wall. Not near clouds. Not in my heart. Where were they?
Where mountains met waves in the same city,
Where the fragrance of Jasmine traveled with the breeze to the desert
Where winter was spring and autumn was summer.
Those seasons,
blurred from my memories
My evanescent canvases.
All dried inside me.
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