I sit apart, I close my eyes
the oud evokes the world where it has grown:
desert, olive grove, and mountain
firelight and tent and tea
the family extending out across the map
unreachable faces
that burn with love
that bend in prayer, or mischief
that focus on kneading of dough
or knotting rugs
guiding a donkey a taxi
a long trip alone on a subway
the scent of olive oil
the promise of shared food
remote dreams
that are not complicated
just a teapot, passed around
a circle of faces, warm
even if they all reflect pain
it is a circle that holds in warmth
the tune encircles this vision
ignites the fire that feeds
that bakes bread
sears meat of goat
— not the inhuman fires that
engulf children… schools…
families in shelter —
the hearth fire, creative,
perpetual gift
the music sings this
the drumming gives this
fire promise
There, there it is — the rivulet
of sorrow that speaks peace
– you hold home like a flame in the hand,
cupped around the pick,
speaking dreams into the hollow of rounded wood
rolling out the endless weaving, the ever-changing story
I close my eyes. I listen.
© Tracy Hudson 2024
Doha, Qatar, December 2008 © Tracy Hudson
Three Musicians in Montréal: Abdul-Wahab Kayyali - Oud, Hamin Honari - Percussion, Amichai Ben Shalev - Bandaneon
Listen: Les Arrivants: Burkaan
Petra, Jordan, 2012 © Tracy Hudson
