E Rabia's Eternity

My Brother cries
His nut brown cheeks
rivulet streaked
He will not speak
Just tear my lies
And promises.

My homespun tales,
How Farhad's love
Wrought honeyed rivers
Rock released;
Of sacred waters
Desert flowed.

Hunger beats
It's hand held drum
In daily marches
Round our Homes
Past skeletal cows
And dusty wells.

Centuries ago
God's Love
QUENCHED THE THIRST
Of Ibrahim's Child.

Too late,
That play's been played,
It's our time now,
To flutter Earth's Breast
Our starved wings,
"Tomorrow we'll wake
On God's."