Here I am. On my toes again
With His Highness Sheikh Hamdan bin Mohammed Al Maktoum, Crown Prince of Dubai, I’d like to tap on my words to give rise to a new tune. If I may, It’d be the sweetest.
Perhaps a song will be made flesh.
From an article on google, I found his name
Thought the name was intriguing
I read through the pages
It budded out to some more pages and now, I’m interested.
Until my head knocked out some sense in me.
His Highness smelled honor and true justice
May this poem warrant me no death penalty
But His Highness spoke wisdom in His poetry
And hooked my heart like a fierce Falcon
His poems I long to deserve
to be able to plant them through my deeds.
May this nourish the lives of my comrades
From the land that nursed
And protected my people.
My land watered my flesh and taught me
Better things with Pride and Dignity.
Penning this does not steam my fears away
It does not seal the raving sea within
Oh, have mercy!
I do not pray to be pried for a breach of any law. I adore the Prince like a child; like the biggest fan.
Did two of my face’s bright windows
and wooden door awaken the depths of impossibility? A real Prince married to a pauper: a pauper to a real Prince. This I ought to be the truth.
To stand in love with the Crown Prince; a stranger to me but never to my country. Even I knew the odd one out.
Prince, (it has a beautiful sound to it.)
The vast sand where your people have set up their Bedouin
To shelter other tribes from the coldest nights;
To shield their skin born out of embers from the frowning sun
Truly was majestic.
How the strength of desires immortal amplified the splendid stories of every person—
You lead them as the camels with their humps on their back in a jovial mood; attentive to the curse of the living nature.
When sandstorm whirls any present debris to hurt your friends
Your arms are spread before them so that
Each sorrow is painted clean
With you; the omnipresent man of your Kingdom.
The world is a walking sin (it cultivates pain and oppression)
It hogs greed and livens up power
It survives through clanging metals; banging tanks instead of music and the rhythm of a poet.
I breathe fear from amongst my veins
I folded my heart in sick rejoice;
Not to have faith for those who locked their eyes against your eloquent pursuits.
I remember, as a child, the smell of
burnt leaves that do not leave my skin unless I bathe.
My loneliness destroys my bosom
Every time the cry of silence dominates.
But as a repercussion, I call out to the wind
To seek your protection.
Perhaps I adore you
And the rumors alongside you.
O, what do I know?
But with you, My Prince
to whom the stars worship,
to whom the seafarers find on a dangerous cruise
His life a delicate
His wings of hardened gold
And, clothes a spotless—
I sing my praise to the Highest
For in my dreams, I once desired
A chance, a time to feel a true Prince
in my stride.
O, what a dream; a steadfast one. O, what do I have to illuminate? I wonder.
With His army aiming to win every battle
Granted one dares to speak ill of His name
Will blow the mightiest Tower away
I do not possess what the precious Dolls have; a fragile body and a glass house.
But my home is lumped by people with calloused feet and toiling hands
and I only have the sun in my heart.
I walk without fame
Not well-acquainted with Dirhams
But if one can find love and prosper joy
What’s wrong with that?
I saw a pale blue light illuminating the mountain peak
Right before darkness invades to immobilize the city
Before this sentiment transforms into madness
Head over to my house and,
Bring me the gift of endurance to which I owe this ‘would be’ masterfully crafted moment.