Mystical minded Richard Mc Sweeney of the sacred isle of Éire (Ireland) is a serene practitioner of the ancient art of self-originating artistry – delighting in POETICALLY giving shape n’ form to the integrity of the INDIVIDUAL voice. His is a world where the philosophical and the literary are not two but one and the same; where the poet is at home with composing in prose.
He greatly enjoys cultural bridge building. In particular his works {Bridging Al-Serenities}, {Generations Reaching}, {A Jesus of Nazareth}, n’ {Myriam of Lebanon} have been very much influenced by the eastern Mediterranean worlds.
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And with continuing to slowly unwind it’s revealing to me a painting of a me strolling of a lovely seasonless morning from the Mediterranean seafront church of Saint Jean-Marc in Byblos of Lebanon east towards the Old Souk; towards EddéYard, and along by éCafé with keeping right for the Gibran’s Lebanon celebrated bookshop/art gallery.
With entering there is a lovely fragrance of orange blossoms, and its owner the charming Madame Alice Eddé is greeting me. She’s in the company of our mutual very good friend, William Matar, the owner of the very popular website OneFineArt. Ever grateful I am to William and Alice for it was they who first believed in me when I was but newly published, and it was they who first introduced my works, “Myriam of Lebanon” and “A Jesus of Nazareth” to Lebanon.
With strolling and chatting around the bookshop, I’m happening to notice on a table an old black and white photograph of the legendary Lebanese singer Fairuz. It’s a photograph familiar to me, yet for some reason it seems here in this lovely ambience to be calling me to view-listen to it more attentively.
Fairuz in her Beyrouthian garden of an afternoon in May
Ah, yes, now I remember; yes, now I clearly recall.
How of a glorious May dawn here in my beloved Beyrouth,
There did appear there before my eyes in that almond tree, an angel of the Lord who did say unto me,
“Nuriyah, beloved of the Almighty,
Be not anxious, for I am sent to thee as a messenger of God.
From before the womb the Lord thy God hath chosen thee to be a voice of love, light ‘n remembrance for thy people;
For thy people who dwell here upon the land ‘n for those away from her in painful exile.
From Jabal al Arz to Zuqaq el Blatt the Lord thy God has loved thee ‘n will always love thee.
A time is coming Nuriyah when thy will stand as a majestic white cloud upon the snowy summit of Mount Hermon.
Above thee will be the compassionate blue sky ‘n below the faithful land of Lubnan.
And at that time thy will smilingly say in thy heart,
‘My people it was not I of my own accord that did make it to this great height, less you should think it so;
Oh, no it was not I, but the grace of the Almighty working within me; yes, ‘n it was your unwavering love for me that has elevated me here to within hearing distance of Angels’ Sanctuary.’
Yet, Nuriyah, beloved of the Almighty.
Afore all this will come to pass a dagger will severely wound thy heart;
For thy people will for a time be letting themselves be with full forgetfulness of the love ‘n generosity of the Lord their God.
During this hour be with them, but sing not for them; sing not for them until they turn their hearts again to trusting in the Lord.
And when this veil of tears will have been removed from them, thy must come again among them ‘n sing to them with all thy heart of how the Lord hath blessed them with riches untold; had never forsaken them ‘n would again be with returning them to an even greater glory than in the days of yore.
Yes, sing to them from thy beauteous heart of the love of the Lord thy God for thee.
And with listening to thy divinely imbued voice the Lord thy God will be with moving their hearts back to the faith of Lubnan: Blessed land throughout the Ages;
back to the faith of its golden shoreline, flower garden fields ‘n cedar snowy slopes.”
Ah, yes, now I remember; yes, now I clearly recall.
Source: Unto Lineage Royal
(C) 2009 RmS
Levantine sapling
Hi, I’m a miracle tree n’ so you can call me Mila.
Who is that?
Oh, that’s my mama; the bestest mama in the worlds of worlds.
She lullabies n’ ummms me to sleep, n’ with waking she is sweet smiling upon me. See, here is her smile.
Does she tell you stories too?
Oh, she does, she does; all lovely stories of the beautiful land of Lebanon.
She tells me about the rabbits, the sheep, the goats n’ the birds that play about the big cedar trees way up in the mountains.
She tells me how they all love to be playing with each other everyday beneath the gently swaying fragrant trees.
Oh, n’ she tells me stories about how the wavy sea loves to be softly kissing the Beirut shore.
What do you like about your mama most of all?
The way she hugs me like this; I can feel her heart against my tummy.
Do you see this hairclip, here?
Well, my mama she waved back my pretty hair with her scented soft hands, n’ then put it over my ear.
Oh, n’ my daddy too loves to brush my hair.
His hands are bigger than my mama’s n’ they have a nice smell too.
Mama’s hands fit nicely into daddy’s hands.
Mila dear, I love, I love, I love you.
And I looooooooove you even the more the more cuddly mama.
Precious, you are my heart.
A poem inspired by a Facebook photograph of
Lebanese singer Nancy Ajram with her daughter.
(C) 2011 RmS
For other contributions by Richard Mc Sweeney, please follow the links below:
Poetry in this post: © Richard Mc Sweeney
Published with the permission of Richard Mc Sweeney