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Oh Shepherd of the mountains of burdens, my heart is eager to hear from you and to see you.
Like the  fruits of the trees, they long for shawer of rain, and valleys of tears flowing down the checks from yearning eyes.
Oh Shepherd of the mountains of burdens in my heart there is a tenderness and emptiness that cannot be explained. My eyes are eager to see you.
My passions are to love and share my love with my friends.
 Oh Shepherd of the mountain, where is  the legend that was left by our ancestors? Where are the melodies of music from the harps and violens of the kingdom of Arabia? Where are the rains to sock the desert?
Oh Shepherd of the mountains, the Al’Aqsa Mosque calls me and calls every comrades. 
Oh Shepherd of the mountains, where are those voices of  trees when the autumn foliage fall to mark the beginning of the season.
Oh Shepherd of the mountains, where are the chipping music of the birds and the running gaggles from gutters of rain water?
Oh Shepherd of the mountains, are you the nursing the wounds of the generation with the music of chaos?
Ya, Allah!

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Ottawa International Poets and Writers for human Rights (OIPWHR)