I.
You started life a refugee, torn from your land and your olive trees
You started life a refugee, not a slave and yet not free
And as a child, much misery, high in the hills of Tripoli
Where you started life a refugee, and became a man too young, you see…
To help support your family, you did men’s work to earn a fee
And to serve the cause of liberty, you fought and bled in Tripoli
But through the years, your destiny, whispered tales of what would come to be
For he who began a refugee, would soon find love and plant a tree
II.
With babes in hand, you crossed the sea. And traded bread for your dignity
You sacrificed with humility, and sold your sweat to grow your tree
And though still a child, my eyes could see, that you never lost your integrity
You toiled hard, with serenity. Your childhood dreams, just a memory
A winding path that proved to be: full of love, and pain, and family
A father’s love filled with sympathy, and the warrior spirit you imbued in me
A more kindred spirit there could never be
And then you disappeared, so suddenly…
III.
Now I wake at night, and tragically, remember that you’re gone from me
And in the dark, my memory, plays with my mind and toys with me
For in my room, I swear I see, your loving eyes staring back at me
And if it’s a dream that lets this be, then don’t you dare awaken me
Father: the loss of you has shaken me; and longing has not forsaken me
For my love for you, mistakenly, caused all my will to part from me
While life’s perverse profanity, took all that’s left of sanity
IV.
But you did not die in vain, you see. For I will never forget what you gave to me
In my heart and soul, lives a refugee, that will wield a pen till all people are free
Through my blood and my ink, flows your legacy
And with these words, I honour thee:
For you are forever unmatched in your nobility. And forever loved by your family
And with the stroke of this pen, your memory, is etched into eternity…
~In Loving Memory of Maher Chehade: April 29 1953 – May 23 2013

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