Leaves Of Grass In Syria Poem by Mohammad Yousef

By Mohammad A. Yousef

In the heart of ancient soil,
where the Euphrates whispers secrets to the wind,
and the sun spills its golden light
over the crumbling stones of history,
leaves of grass emerge, resilient,
like memories rising from the ashes of yesterday.

They sway in the breath of a forgotten breeze,
dancing to the rhythm of unseen hands,
a chorus of green against the backdrop of time,
each blade a testament, a silent witness
to the stories etched in the ground—
of laughter, of tears, of the land
that held generations close
and watched them wander away.

Here in Syria, where olive trees stand guard,
their gnarled limbs cradling the weight of sorrow,
the grass, too, knows the taste of resilience,
the way it unfurls beneath the weight of war,
finding light in the cracks of asphalt,
growing wild where hope dares to tread.

The sun sets over the valleys,
casting long shadows that cradle the earth,
and the grasses shimmer,
as if to remind us that life persists,
even in the harshest of climates—
a mosaic of green among the rubble,
a soft whisper amidst the roar of history,
each leaf a promise,
each stem a prayer for peace.

In the fields where children once played,
where laughter echoed like bells,
the grass stands tall,
a green tapestry woven with the threads of dreams,
and as the stars emerge,
they blanket the night in a soft embrace,
reminding us of the beauty that remains,
even when the world seems broken.

For in the leaves of grass in Syria,
there lies an echo of the past,
a yearning for what was,
and a glimmer of what could be—
a call to remember,
a call to nurture the green,
to let it thrive where it may,
so that the spirit of the land,
and the stories of its people,
may live on,
dancing on the winds of time,
forever entwined with the roots of hope.