#zejel

A Zejel + Saraband

Andalusian queen be not afraid

As the blood of your kin is enough to pay

For the destined rise of this Caliphate.

Tho, your glimmering green irises shone

The angst and pain from your turmoil;

Your tears glide down you skin of amber stone

And your faint heart sinks beneath the soil.

Well I've been enamored too long

And got lost in a sudden throng;

Got stuck between my wits and wrongs,

But all along I sought for you.

Although, I've fallen ill with rue;

I knew with love comes bitter truth,

tiger lilies & peonies

bluebells & fireweed - all of these

flowers turn to a swirling storm

the colors crash, no longer warm

petals caught in my mouth transform

i'm burning blood & stinging bees

through my throat paper-dry leaves burst

roots, vines & seeds spill from me, cursed

so i succumb to nature's thirst

my voice is now but quiet breeze

lost in a garden of shadow

hollow & fallow & echo

sorrow, sallow, our dark meadow

I’d sing now in a style so old, more than a thousand years are rolled into the dream these sounds unfold.

A rhythm from the farthest south, where heat and sere wind parch the mouth, Al-Andalus, the home of drouth; and thus our history would unfold.

In all the pleasant Frankish lands where our peoples fought to a stand, here only are found desert sands; the scent of dry dust towards them rolled.

I throw the gold chains from the vault-- even though I claim I'm not at fault, I continue on this assault, like a confession in advance.

I believe in gods who embrace life as a grace, not as a race, running to abandon their fine lace. Their finery makes an expanse