Talaat Harb Street Poem by Francois Hoon

As I walk through woven roads entangled
A heat pressing from the ‘sphere and this bustling petrol-fair
Walking on tar crossing darkly rivers sullied
With grime and soot and soaked-down polluted air.

A strange peace creeps up in my mind
Like the swells of heat below, the billows from the pave’
I walk along supremely content
Wherever I tread it feels like my have’.

The world is my dwelling, I dwell on things slight and vast
Through circles in the streets with statues seeming grim
Strolling on making way on this street called Talaat Harb
The sun streaks down warm as my feet cross streets’ brim.

Voyages of life down paths of joy and strife
We walk secure when we trust in love and faith
Wherever we go Father keeps with His sword or a knife
Piercing through, His Word of love, to wants and pains unsay’th.

(2008-01-09)