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The Web Poetry Corner

Edna Yaghi


Amman, Jordan

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Warrior Poet


Edna Yaghi

Knowing of my love for your people
would you one day hang me
Under an old oak tree
Laughing off my swinging corpse
As the way things should be?

I wear my love
As a badge of courage
Though I have been discouraged
And crucified before.

I will show you
Nail marks on the palms of my hands
The wounds have healed now
But my blood still soaks arid sands

Watering them with my despair
Because I was knave enough to care.
I am a shepherd of the field
I dine on what my prayers can yield

I have no weapons to kill
If you will....
No guns or bows and arrows
Bear I...I walk upon narrow

Streets and still waters
Fishing for men who believe
For I grieve....

Your sorrow has become mine
And my eyes shine
With a light that blazes
A passageway through tomorrow.

I am a warrior-poet...
I fight battles with words
Which fly as strange birds
Into the darkness.



Edna Yaghi

Sometimes when I am so far away
During so long ago,
Your Montana scene creeps into my thoughts
And I can almost hear that golden wheat growing,

Smell the blue roses in my father's garden
And picture a forest cabin snuggled against the dark Rockies.
I feel that soft green grass still beneath my childhood feet
Running through summer sprinklers

And I still cringe from the smart of red skin burnt by
Double exposure to your Montana sun
But these memories evaporate into thin
Desert air

And I am back embedded between four barren walls
Staring at the desolate gray of cement houses
Where trees grow sparsely
And the green, my oasis, is just a figment of my Imagination.

No meadow larks sing here or yellow canaries
And I am soothed only by the coo of lonely wild pigeons Speaking to me in a tongue different than my own.

Oh what I would give to be younger,
Singing beneath your Montana sky that's
Wide open like your prairies
And to be free as the wind that tumbles

Down from those purple mountains
Where I once roamed in Heaven
Never realizing or knowing how much I would one day lose
Or how much else I would gain
But you, Montana, will forever live in my heart
And when I die, a bit of you will be buried with me.

Like the Man Without a Country,
I never stopped loving you and
Your absence has only increased my devotion
Which will wear and tear at my mind and bore a hole
Through my soul Until we meet again.