Ghada Shahbender

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Arabs gave the world Algebra
And the science of Alchemy
When Europe was in its dark ages
And Aristotle was blasphemy.
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I am saddened, in fact dismayed
For the attention that I have paid
To fellow poets who fail to perceive
That they should enlighten and not deceive.
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I no longer know me
I don't want to be
I look in the mirror
and a stranger looks back at me
...

Did you ever
Run your fingers through a burning flame
To make sure that it would burn you
Run straight into a closed door
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A blank wall the ugly color of dust
Two drain pipes covered in pigeon droppings and rust
I roll down the shutters to keep Friday morning out
The humid air, the children who swear and the parents that shout.
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Loneliest moment:
Parrot screeches for attention;
The house is silent.
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She is now my best friend.
Always close to me
She's as reliable
as no one else can ever be.
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I dream of a heaven overlooking the river Nile
The Pyramids at a distance
Fishermen in rickety feluccas
A blazing September sunset
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In my search for beauty
I painted this picture of the perfect Other.
I painstakingly sketched.
I added detail, form, light and color.
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Uncontrollably weeping I reach for my phone
I ring him up and get an out of service tone
I know he's away and that's all I'll hear
But somehow when I call him I feel he's near
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I am still feverish from the venom of your sting
The poison still runs in my veins
I’m too weak to fight it
It makes me want to lash out at you
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Responsible Freedom? ?
In love 'Responsible freedom'
is not a choice
For Love's favorite child is Responsibility
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I don’t want my heart to dry up, shrivel and wither.
I want her to warm up to you and for fear of cruelty shiver.
I want her to hold on to memories, sweet and bitter.
I want her to smile and frown and occasionally jitter.
...

I search for words to describe and tell
Of that bleak unfamiliar picture of Cairo
That only I am seeing
But the words will not come to my rescue.
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Every night I have a dream
A different dream, the same theme
I have a friend who turns away
As I look at him and beg him to stay
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When the walls start falling in on you
You see the pictures closely and discover they are all fake
Then you tread slowly down a corridor of mirrors and glass
Some you can see through clearly
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Amazing how this tiny bundle of pink flesh and black hair can so powerfully brush everything else aside.
And at the count of ten perfect fingers and ten perfect toes, new mummy is dazed with affection and overcome with pride.
Dispersed are her melancholic thoughts and secret longing for departed grandpa to be there.
Euphoria, primitive joy and the ultimate fulfillment of dreams of procreation are everywhere.
...

I went to the desert to lose myself
But she came back strengthened and wizened
For the desert, like life, has many lessons to teach.
It has taught me that not all sand is the same
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I want to write happy poetry
For people are by nature meant to be happy

I want to tell of my son’s warm embrace
...