Living in Maaloula

The tiny houses stacked so high

They almost reach the sky

Yet, if the walls could truly talk

They surely wouldn't lie

They'd tell the tales  of years gone by

When life was simple for you and I

When homemade pies  and crusted bread  was relished in the heart  When little minds lay relaxed after day's play in the dirt

The sky was quiet Birds flew through the clouds

The land was ours... to work, to plough

Yet, times have changed and  Bared we sit

As our homes are wrecked

Quiet robbed As silence means a new fear

Noise is often now, welcomed here.

The scene you see in a picture card

May not be the truth...  

For when the night comes It's time to pray

May we see another day.  How nice would it be

To awaken...to the yesteryears

All solid and not shaken 

To peace and love, joy and calm

Your hand in mine  Neadeth the balm

To live again in our happy homes

Renewed freedom... for all reawakened.

Poem by Lisa