Hold <strong>the</strong> Truths, oil on canvas, 120 x 90 cm by A. Reed Garner 47
Mo<strong>the</strong>r <strong>and</strong> The Lover’s Rock A bl<strong>in</strong>d beggar <strong>in</strong> Beirut stopped my mo<strong>the</strong>r by <strong>the</strong> Raouché where unrequited lovers used to jump. She was pale <strong>and</strong> very th<strong>in</strong>, with a frighten<strong>in</strong>g copper mane. I wondered if a spell she’d cast before to atta<strong>in</strong> supernatural skills had gone horribly awry <strong>and</strong> this is how she ended up bl<strong>in</strong>d <strong>and</strong> destitute. Did she not know about <strong>the</strong> perils of ‘Gods bear<strong>in</strong>g gifts’? “You are veiled,” she told my mo<strong>the</strong>r, “And possess a Kuwaiti citizenship. Come here, <strong>and</strong> I shall unveil your future.” “No thanks,” said mo<strong>the</strong>r, “I don’t believe <strong>in</strong> soothsayers.” “There is greatness <strong>in</strong> your path!” She shouted at my mo<strong>the</strong>r’s back. “You must not be confused about your role when <strong>the</strong> time arrives.” That stopped mo<strong>the</strong>r <strong>in</strong> her tracks. She glanced at <strong>the</strong> giant rock where lovers came to die, <strong>the</strong>n trotted to <strong>the</strong> beggar, who sat cross-legged with an open palm. In <strong>the</strong> car, mo<strong>the</strong>r’s eye tw<strong>in</strong>kled with desire that melted all thoughts of <strong>the</strong> civil war she came to Lebanon to resolve. Nada Faris HE Traveled on a Tra<strong>in</strong> He traveled with history on a tra<strong>in</strong>, but remembered that <strong>the</strong> tra<strong>in</strong> was never built <strong>in</strong> Kuwait, thus waylay<strong>in</strong>g history. Or, one version of it, at least. He traversed l<strong>and</strong>s that were not his own, <strong>in</strong> army uniform, dapper though creased <strong>and</strong> crumpled, his backpack full of energy bars <strong>and</strong> batteries. He was ever so polite, tipp<strong>in</strong>g his beige bent hat to strangers, smil<strong>in</strong>g, ask<strong>in</strong>g about <strong>the</strong>ir names <strong>and</strong> health —strangers he would not hesitate to bomb when elevated thous<strong>and</strong>s of miles <strong>in</strong> <strong>the</strong> air, <strong>and</strong> <strong>the</strong>y mere <strong>in</strong>sects crawl<strong>in</strong>g on <strong>the</strong> planet that gave him his accent, his burgers, his beard. He traveled with history on a tra<strong>in</strong>, both passengers without a map, but you know what he always likes to say, “If <strong>the</strong>re is a will, <strong>the</strong>re is a way,” <strong>and</strong> Bill is a capta<strong>in</strong> with orders, blast<strong>in</strong>g through <strong>the</strong> multiverse, <strong>the</strong> loud air horns warn<strong>in</strong>g strangers <strong>from</strong> trespass<strong>in</strong>g, a he<strong>in</strong>ous offence, —strangers whose names he remembers <strong>and</strong> to whom he gave out chocolate <strong>and</strong> chew<strong>in</strong>g gum <strong>and</strong> said, “For your feisty little girls.” He, my capta<strong>in</strong>, never questions <strong>the</strong>ir color <strong>from</strong> <strong>the</strong> air, black, brown, or gray are close enough <strong>in</strong> a cubical, <strong>and</strong> besides, when he divests himself of his uniform, he retires to his office to celebrate himself, <strong>and</strong> wonders how he <strong>and</strong> history can sell ano<strong>the</strong>r 50 Shades of Grey, for our feisty little girls. Nada Faris 48