Standing on the shore of the Arabian Gulf
Reminiscing of the history that has sailed
upon these waters, the same salt that
passes over my toes as I now stand.

The foreign language that once filled
the space between the fishermen and pearl divers,
now is faintly heard if I close my eyes
and listen soft enough

The same breeze that fingers itself through my hair
once was captured by the sails of dhows,
pushing them towards
or away land.

The culture, the land, the people that once
stood where I stand are now only figures
in the past and without tombstones to
signify their existence- to prove that they once breathed-
are only alive through my thoughts-displayed here.

At their moment in time, I wonder if
they felt satisfied spiritually, physically?
Did they hunger?
On long journeys, did they look up into the sky and allow
it's majestic force to suggest a greater power?
Another existence?
Did they think of a lover? Or family?

Could the vastness of the water and
the clarity of the sky form a seed of loneliness?
Once the sun stretched it's light did they feel
safer or more lost?

I can almost hear the laughter that once sang
around the burning oil and incense
humor that exists in only one tongue,
the kind that gets lost in translation
making it unique to a certain tribe.

Stories from the mouths of the greatest story tellers
How at one time the sea opened it's mouth and sang.
Waves swelling to proclaim the symphony,
tossing the boat like a melodic tone
in a string of chords.
The fishermen hanging on to the nets
as they aggressively flap in the thick wind.
Sea water splashing on to their skin
which crystallizes as it dries
leaving the men looking like a pocket of
fairy dust was dropped on them

The storyteller re-living this even, would be
dramatically swaying back and forth using
his arms to show the magnitude of each crashing wave,
But then -
the fishermen around are hushed,
the intensity strengthened when the storyteller
reverently whispers "Ahumdula"
Thanks be to Allah (may peace be upon him), we were not harmed.
Like a ripple, the word trickles out from the lips
of all the listening men.

He closes his story by saying
The prayers lifted were heard and
Allah (may peace be upon him) calmed the sea,
He hushed the waves and restored a gentle breeze

The day after the storm, their nets were so full of fish
that they were beginning to tear.
Ahumdula

All the fishermen would give thanks
and all including the storyteller would retire to bed.
The oil lamp turned down.

And on the shore of the Arabian Sea
I am inspired to record the story
that was placed within my thoughts
and like all treasures
keep it close and revel in it's magic.