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eine Saite

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On hearing Les Arrivants, August 11, 2024

Souq Waqif, Doha, Qatar, July 2011  © Tracy Hudson

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

tags: poetry, originalpoem, music, decolonize, grief, joy, writing, oud
Friday 08.30.24
Posted by Tracy Hudson
 

written by me, January 2023

to the stones on the beach

I want to say

like walking on jewels

— only jewels are not

that important to me,

and possibly not as unique

as the stones, which really

seemed to be speaking

stories to me in

unknown languages

Photo by Cathy Broski

tags: poetry, writing, stones, myownwords
Friday 05.12.23
Posted by Tracy Hudson
 

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