The Sea Will Part

By Maha Mohamed Ali

I am packing for the land across the high sea,

Desire carpets my feet and storms to the free sand,

I am leaving this day deaf to worn tongues and low plea,

Let there be truth to the word of an honoured highland.

I have stepped over every excuse strung at my door,

Memory swathes my feet in pools of silent dismay,

I must wade this threshold and lose my old floor,

Can I now sprint across my poems scattered astray?

I have dreamed its dream over a puzzling pillow,

My youth was spent in anticipation of ordained time,

I will breathe all I held inside and ascend the billow,

Will I bathe in the salt of my written myth and thrive?

I must seek an aid across the blue lain before my eyes,

The sea curls at my feet cuddled by the dimming light,

I see no man nor is the sun returning to puff my tries,

Must a stick bring the blue to kneel at the will of all might?

I am sitting counting my last resolve in trembling hands,

The moon has sought my courage against a darker sea,

I have no nobility to motor nor knowledge to borrow chants,

Shall I bring every fear to the ground as my lasting fee?

By Maha Mohamed Ali