Between the Mountains and the Sea

The mid-afternoon sun beats down on the sheets

covering the cars, parked half way on the streets

and halfway on the sidewalk between the feats

of Khalil Gibran Khalil and Arab treats.

So sweet with honey-

Lebanon does not need Arab money,

or anything in the cents

of Americans envisioning tents,

or mansions paid by oil rents

when Lebanon is not Palestine

and when Lebnan is not Kuwait,

and where Lebnan cannot be mine

and Lebanon spreads her sectorial state,

still if she were a girl she would be my date,

a marriage made in love and hate

and one thing sure about our fate,

that we shall live forever to mate

those fractions of us that won’t stay

longer together than a day,

but come together as if to say

truly in Lebnan only the mountains can exist-

three cities and towns betwixt-

the sea blue and the cedar green,

love is cruel, love is mean,

 

love is Lebnan, in between.