Eva L. 0  

I am the Candle Flame

I am the candle flame for Tibet on high

 My country stolen mountains in the sky
 
Valleys weep your clouds float on by
 
Freedom taken from me that’s why I cry

Oh mountain trails how I miss your track

 My flame burns bright I want you back

Within my soul I yearn my eyes wet

Tibet you were my life ill not forget

Why did you come take my home away?

 Even then you didn’t ask I had no say

You stole my heart my spirit all I had

Now here I burn my flame bright but sad

What did I do I ask the question why

 For I grow weary to see my land for I die

Here I stand you smile look down on me

 Ill fight for you till my death to set you free

 So many years i've suffered silent in pain

How I yearn to touch your gentle soil again

To climb to yonder mountain peek above

Once more my spirit to feel of your love

Tony Robin Bulley 17th October 2008 ©

Vigil

Where are you now,
 with your palms together,
 bowing,
your dark red robes
 wrapping the wisdom
 of a thousand years,
 white knife peaks,
 and over six thousand
monasteries?

 
Your home not your home
 and yet your home always,
you wander,
you meditate,
you chant and pray;
you teach, you love,
 or you stay
and must keep quiet.
 

Yet prayer flags still blow
 in high Tibetan air,
prayer flags still blow
 in the deep dark-eyed hearts
of your people.
There are places
the intruders,
the violators
 cannot reach–
places alive with
the smiles and tears
 of your lost land.

 
Red robed ones
 with your calm eyes
 upon the world,
 you who pay homage
 to the consciousness
in all things,
 you who see far beyond
 appearances:
you know past time,
 you love past duality,
 and yet you cry too.

 
The mountains of Tibet,
 the vast plateaus
and green valleys,
the sky lakes and blue rivers,
 the sons and daughters
 of this sacred land
know and wait for you,
and for their time
within space and beyond
 to be free.

© 1996 Layne Russell

"Forgiveness"

Palestinian Am I

by E. Yaghi

No one can take away from me
My identity,
For it is mine.


Palestinian am I.
I am the river that flows
Through my land.
I am the mountain
Noble and magnificent
Rising up out of chaos and destruction.


I greet the morning sun
That shines down on my fertile valleys
And parches my barren desert.


I am the red poppy and yellow daffodil
That grow upon my bloodstained hills.
I am the battle cry of freedom
That echoes through my corridors
And every fiber of my being.


Palestinian am I.
I am the proud owner of
Orange orchards and lemon blossoms
And honey bees, wild and free.


I am the Palestinian
David child wielding a single stone
Against the Israeli Goliath.
 I am not afraid,
 For truth is with me and God is on my side.
If I die,
A choir of angels will honor me
And later, my parents will grasp my outstretched hand
And join me in Heaven.


I am the tears of
Mothers weeping for their dead sons.
I am the footsteps of ancient prophets
Who foretold of doom and destruction
To those who torture and oppress me.


My brethren are the doves, hummingbirds and seagulls
That fly unhindered above my sea.
I am Palestinian,
Therefore, I am.


No one can take my identity
Away from me,
Not tanks or guns or bombs
 Meant to desecrate me and kill me.
My country lives in me.


I am the cry of liberty.
No matter what they take from me,
 They can't take away my identity
Or my dignity.
Palestinian am I.

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