By Districts

Living in Maaloula

The tiny houses stacked so high 
They almost reach the sky
Yet, if the walls could truly talk
They surely wouldn't lie
They'd tell the tales 
of years gone by
When life was simple for you and I 
When homemade pies 
and crusted bread 
was relished in the heart 
When little minds lay relaxed 
after day's play in the dirt
The sky was quiet
Birds flew through the clouds 
Land was ours...
to work, to plow
Yet, times have changed and 
Bared we sit
As our homes are wrecked 
Quiet robbed 
As silence means a new fear
Noise is often now, welcomed here.
The scene you see in a picture card 
May not be the truth...
For when the night comes 
It's time to pray
May we see another day.
How nice would it be
To awaken...to the yesteryears 
All solid and not shaken 
To peace and love, 
joy and calm
Your hand in mine 
Neadeth the balm
To live again in our happy homes
Renewed freedom...
for all reawakened.

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Poem by Lisa