Cruel Autumns Poem by Majdoleen (Maggie) Sukayri

Like the lingering leaves detached by the breeze,
Displaced from the neighboring buds,
With no final place to rest,
Doomed to wonder every corner of the land,
Banished from the bosom of its branch,
Never to taste the bitter sweet olive
It once dearly held,
Never to feel the succulent ooze of its oils

On a windless day, resting atop cracked soil
The dove swoops in, salvaging what remains,
In its beak, I soar over the wreckage
The autumns left no memory to desire
A migration to the south, or to the east
I want no contest with the dove,
For I am held away from birth,
My final rest, will be on strange soil

Come next summer, the land will be free of its imposing breezes
Come next autumn, we will be favored!
As for the drying leaf, it's too late
As the absence of a bosom to suckle, attested my fate …