The End of Our Journey

by Sala Fadelallah

A volcano of rainbows,
Waiting
To erupt.

Our women’s multicoloured scarves
Whip and dip
In a fury,
As they lay the table for Eid.

The placid plodder’s trek
Along the grains of desert rice
Wasn’t easy.
But my connection with the almighty
Has kept me fighting strong.

The first batch rises from the oven.
The scent of sweet spices
Drown the kitchen.
The warmth of Haboba’s kaak
Was highly heart-warming.

The rice was like the desert.
The lamb like the gateway.
The broccoli, the centre of the oasis.

All fellow guests
Gather at our home, our oasis.
Young ones enlightened,
Screaming with popcorn souls.
Agitated eyes shining with elation.

Laying on the rich ceremonial salver
Was a cheery lamb.
Without it,
The glistening pool,
In the centre of the oasis,
Would vanish.

We all sat
On our beige mounds
Like the land of the burning sun.

It is time
To enjoy our felicity feast.

Haboba is my grandmother and kaak are traditional biscuits.