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| Omar Mouajes in POST-FIGHT DISSONANCES |
Walking down a staircase,
Little red children everywhere with emptiness at heart.
He stands in the center,
A monstrous hurricane surrounds him.
Lighting strikes from heaven,
Yet he remains calm.
Calmer than the sea over the edge.
I see him talking to his children,
Who are gathered beneath his feet.
They are not frightened,
they are strong,
As the sounds of angels gather around the little red children.
I stand upon the brink;
every angel passes through my heart.
The sea rises upon the edge.
He tells them to prevail.
They cannot.
The little red children withdraw.
I try to, but I cannot.
He knows I am here.
His angels carry me over the sea and onto the treacherous mountain.
I do not understand why.
His children hold me, while the angels in the heavens circle around us.
The eye of the storm is upon us.
He looks down and utters,
“Your turn.”
My knees start buckling.
My breath shortens yet intensifies.
Lighting strikes around me.
I try to breathe, but I cannot.
One of the children shrieks,
“Breathe!”
And I scream,
“I will stand against the winds,
Against this atrocity upon thy children.
Angels will guide me,
In my journey to reach my soul.
I will always be, He will always be,
And the waves will always flow.”
My voice echoes across the sharp pillars of our world.
I am alone.
No one appears from the darkness.
I see a light on the water,
I rush to feel it,
I awake in the heart.
Little red children everywhere with emptiness at heart.
He stands in the center,
A monstrous hurricane surrounds him.
Lighting strikes from heaven,
Yet he remains calm.
Calmer than the sea over the edge.
I see him talking to his children,
Who are gathered beneath his feet.
They are not frightened,
they are strong,
As the sounds of angels gather around the little red children.
I stand upon the brink;
every angel passes through my heart.
The sea rises upon the edge.
He tells them to prevail.
They cannot.
The little red children withdraw.
I try to, but I cannot.
He knows I am here.
His angels carry me over the sea and onto the treacherous mountain.
I do not understand why.
His children hold me, while the angels in the heavens circle around us.
The eye of the storm is upon us.
He looks down and utters,
“Your turn.”
My knees start buckling.
My breath shortens yet intensifies.
Lighting strikes around me.
I try to breathe, but I cannot.
One of the children shrieks,
“Breathe!”
And I scream,
“I will stand against the winds,
Against this atrocity upon thy children.
Angels will guide me,
In my journey to reach my soul.
I will always be, He will always be,
And the waves will always flow.”
My voice echoes across the sharp pillars of our world.
I am alone.
No one appears from the darkness.
I see a light on the water,
I rush to feel it,
I awake in the heart.
Omar Moujaes - February 2011
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