As a Lebanese-American living in the United States, I sometimes feel detached from the country my family calls home. This poem includes some words in my native tongue, and it is written in the sonnet format and iambic pentameter.
If I don't call can I still call you mine.
If I forget to write know I still love
Your mountains, oceans, home of the divine
where Saints shine down upon us from above.
I still dream of Your calm and starry nights.
Your heat filled streets and gardens all in bloom.
The freshest fruit and people made of light
the Lady of the World, ya Beirut.
I have not seen Your beauty in a while,
memories fade into Your brilliant sunset
over summer streets I played in as a child,
but I'll always know, ana min Libnen.
And if your Cedars fall to violent flames,
You'll always be my real home of the brave.
