While I want to resist commenting on the news of the day, developments in Egypt have me looking back on my first beloved city, Beirut. I worte the piece below about a year ago as a reflection on the state of Beirut during my time there in the 1970s and 1980s. While the nature of the unrest is very different, it has as much potential to get ugly. I sincerely hope Cairo and its boys (and girls) fare better.
For the Boys
Stores are closed; buildings seem empty.
Streets are deserted, littered, silent and dusty.
Where in the world have they gone?
The children’s voices, the birds, the crickets,
The street vendors, the car horns, the school buses.
They’ve all gone away, scattered like terrified prey.
But the boys--they are here to stay.
Yes, the boys with their AK47s, RPGs and grenades.
Their jeeps speed through the city, patrolling they say.
But there’s no one to watch over; no living soul needs care.
The tanks roll through with nothing leading the way,
No purpose, no ideal, no moral or value to spare.
Fighting for a cause long forgotten, an enemy without a face.
There are no laws, no reverence and no grace.
I pray for this country—Lord, for the boys I pray.
Born into war, darkness, hate and despair.
I pray they know the sweet scent of roses and jasmine past, before death and decay.
I pray they find love, hope, joy, a future --and peace if they dare.
For the boys, Lord I pray.
I welcome your reactions.
Laura
