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
The land was ours... to work, to plough
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.
Poem by Lisa