When Morning Died

 

When Morning rose to wake the Arab eyes

From long colonial sleep, tears turned to smiles

And country song-and-dance redeemed the skies

And dabki arms, entwined, stretched out for miles.

 

When with blithe voice, Sabah, our Morning, sang

The crescents flickered and the church bells rang

And music fluttered far with wings of light

Stretching the festive eves into the night.

 

When Morning died, the sunrise wore a shroud

And tears washed off the smiles in every crowd

And country music scurried home to mourn

Because its flapping wings of light were shorn.

 

Four score and more, the Arab’s Morning shone

Now that she’s gone, the sun is all alone.