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A Soaring Tribute to Freedom and Faith: A Review of A Prayer on Wings
By Akashma News
“A Prayer On Wings: A Poem Of Palestinian return
A bird
Soaring the skies
Wings beating
Bringing blessings
As it embraces the air
A messenger of hope
And symbol of peace rare
The sound of silence
Resonating
Within those who dare
To have upturned eyes
To the heavens
To witness
Where
A solitary creation
Of Allah
In His might
Has been given
The gift of flight
Thus, we stand in awe
In Allah’s Light
And take flight
Towards
The magnificence
Of
Allah’s Light
All praise to Allah
As He foresees
Human plight
And acknowledges
The flight
Of freedom
Given
And ordained
By the King of Heaven”
Poem by Khaled Alhajahmed
Khaled’s A Prayer on Wings: A Poem of Palestinian Return is a poignant and deeply spiritual meditation on freedom, resilience, and divine grace. Through the imagery of a bird soaring in the sky, the poet crafts a powerful symbol of hope, peace, and the longing for return—a sentiment that resonates profoundly with the Palestinian experience.
The bird, “a solitary creation of Allah,” is more than just a creature of flight; it becomes a messenger, a vessel carrying prayers, dreams, and the unyielding spirit of a people yearning for liberation. Khaled masterfully intertwines themes of faith and struggle, reminding us that true freedom is both a physical and spiritual journey—one ordained and guided by the Almighty.
The poem’s rhythm mirrors the gentle yet purposeful beating of wings, reinforcing the sense of movement, aspiration, and ascension. Lines like “Thus, we stand in awe / In Allah’s Light / And take flight” evoke a sense of reverence, urging readers to look beyond the hardships of the earthly realm and toward the divine.
Winter warm
By Marivel Guzman
There was a time
when I wandered in the timeless silence of solitude.
My books and pen were my only companions,
and life felt dull, empty, and sad.
I was alone.
There was a time
when I flew in all directions without a compass,
where the winds of the East overpowered the West.
I longed to return, but I had no place to call home.
I felt adrift.
I was lost.
There was a time
when “meaning” lost its meaning,
and living became a painful duty.
Eating was no longer a choice,
writing, my secret refuge,
and sleep, my only escape.
Yet, even in dreams, I was lost.
I was exhausted.
There was a time
when the air was heavy to breathe,
my chest refused to expand,
my eyelids felt like lead,
and my heart was cold as ice.
Living seemed a waste of time,
too tired even to feel tired.
I was sad.
There was a time
when spring lost its colors.
The birds sang no more,
swelling buds withered,
seeds refused to germinate.
My garden lost its essence—
no birds or butterflies to nurture it.
I was dying.
But time moved forward,
even as it seemed to slip away from me.
My world became small,
confined, suffocating.
Yet with courage, I stretched my will,
and survived the loneliness
of countless sleepless nights.
I’m living again.
I stepped back from the edge of death
and found a world brimming with life.
Mountains bloomed with majestic colors,
birds waved their goodbyes, migrating North and South.
My garden blossomed into an Eden once more—
alive with bees, insects, and butterflies.
I breathed deeply,
and the cool, refreshing air awakened me.
Winter wrapped me in its warm embrace,
reminding me to welcome the season of rest.
I’m fresh, like a morning rose.
My heart beats joyfully,
a loyal companion that never abandoned me.
Its gentle rhythm reminds me—
I was never truly alone, lost, or sad.
It was always there,
comforting me with its steadfast pulse.
And now, “winter warm” is my companion,
a guiding light on my journey,
an anchor to keep me steady.
It fuels my dreams of tomorrows to come,
a paradise to rest in,
and a refuge when I need to escape.
June 06, 2022 by Marivel Guzman
When I grow up
By Marivel Guzman
When I grow up, I want to be like you
seeing the world pass through me,
growing roots deep into the sky
I need to learn how to fly.
When I grow up, I want to be like you
I want to give light and warm,
and grow roots on Mother Earth
I’m starting to warm up.
When I grow up, I want to be like you
quenching thirsty minds
planting seeds in little souls
my ignorance is starting to wear out.
When I grow up, I want to be like you
running rivers to the oceans
flooding fertile lands
A mother I become.
When I grow up, I want to be like you
I’m selfish, greedy, and honestly naive
But I’m still young with a thousand places to go
with a million goals to achieve
I’m not even a hundred and 300 years to live.
With the wind, the sun, little
Knowledge, patience, and some time, I’m sure to achieve it all
My other half – Akashma poetry
Updated June 18, 2020, at 01:30
My Other Half
Where were you love?
I knew you’d come!
I heard your little soft steps next to my bed,
I felt your fairy wings
dancing to the tune of my breathless hope
I sensed you getting ready for the dance of love. I saw you in the sparkles of the rain, I saw you halo curling in the mist.
I know was you who touched my shoulder in the night, right when I was feeling all broken down.
I knew you’d come, It is you
who saved me from the darkest dream.
Where were you love?
I smell the aroma of your shadow
breathing next to me.
I knew you’d be, it was you
courting my silhouette
inhaling every drop of my sleep.
Where were you love?
I needed your warm presence next to me,
I wanted to hear the whispers of your voice.
I missed your presence in my life.
I tried to forge in other hopes,
I tried to call in other names,
but love is not a costume dress that I can change.
Where are you love?
I need you tonight,
the piercing shout of my pain
will keep me awake if you don’t come,
your absence cut right through my soul.
Where are you love?
I need to embrace your name again,
I want to snuggle up
against your heart next to mine.
I know you come,
I know you miss my voice touching your ear.
I know your life is half without my touch,
I knew you’d come,
I’m feeling warm again tonight. ♥
Love is not love,
if it does not have its other half.
First Published on March 15, 2020, at 20:14
Marivel R Guzman © 2020
Marivel Guzman, is an American poet, and fiction writer. (photo and graphics by Marivel Guzman)
The Mist
The Mist
I feel myself as part of the air, the water, the mountain, the tree, the earth, the fire and the mist.
The abstract sensation of not being in a solid state but ether—that is, a ‘something’ that exists everywhere like the Akash that surrounds us all in a phrase, “From above so is bellow”.
This is a reflection of my altered essence that feels like being everywhere; touched but touching, admired but admiring, but also a transparent and diluted substance molded by the strokes of pain that follows everything I touch, everything that I dream.
But, there is also a feeling of being part of the ‘nowhere’, where you don’t see me, but you feel me; like the air. You feel me through my emotions, passions and pains. Everything that transpire from my essence is me. It’s my soul ‘talking’.
But at the end, I’m the mist of my conquered ideals. I have to surrender to justice and equality, and as the mist, I’ll disappear with white and black tones of grainy rebellion. My soul is boiling with tremores of love for humanity, for earth, for truth, justice and peace.
I must dissipate! ❤️
By Marivel Guzman
March 12, 2018
Breath the rainbow of life
Dedicated to Susanita Michelle Coccinella
Breath the Rainbow of life Art by Marivel Guzman
Breath the Rainbow of Life
As the rainbow bleeds its colors down to me,
magical strokes
arouse the other me,
life starts to grow
emotions and sensations
that were lost in the darkness
boredom of neglect and disaffection.
as pain recedes slightly,
on every inch of life’s color regained:
the red is velvet wrapped by soft rosy aroma,
the purple is lavender of sensations that surrounds,
every infinite atom of my soul.
My lungs are not just organs of existence,
they become the source of hope,
Inhaling, expanding,
inflicting life to warm my blood that races to meet a redder heart,
more beautiful, free of anguish and pain,
free to love again.
.
I breathe the air to inhale the hope to born again..
to learn that life is meaningless without love,
I born again to love love
to love it with the passion and the colors
of the rainbow.
Let me, as I feel free,
let me be a little crazy, artistic and poetic,
don’t judge me world for my soul is free,
let me love the way I love,
love my colors like the the rainbow love the sky that let it be.
-Marivel Guzman- Feb 5 2016
Oh, Jerusalem, My Other Half of Palestine
Old map of Palestine inspired by the poem Oh, Jerusalem, My Other Half of Palestine
This Poem is Dedicated to
The Arab Jewish Palestinians of Jerusalem,
The Arab Muslim Palestinians,
The Arab Christian Palestinians—
To all who have been dispossessed of their homes, their lands,
To those imprisoned, those exiled,
Those fighting in Israeli courts to keep their homes and businesses,
To those harassed by settlers and occupying forces,
To those who have died waiting for liberation,
To those who have died fighting the occupation,
To the martyrs,
And to those yet to be born.
The great city within the motherland,
She stands with patience—silent, still,
With pain… with sorrow… with tears in her eyes,
Oh, Jerusalem, my other half of Palestine.
The land of prophets, the land of prayers,
A land of peace, a land of the brave,
Who know no fear, who refuse to kneel,
That is my city… my holy land,
Oh, Jerusalem, my other half of Palestine.
The tears of sons have salted your sea,
The blood of martyrs has seeped into your soil,
Their prayers rise, entangled with cries,
Oh, Jerusalem, my other half of Palestine.
Proud Jerusalem, standing through time,
Your history is written in the reddest blood,
Your dreams and my dreams—they are but one,
Oh, Jerusalem, my other half of Palestine.
Tonight, you wear an elegant dress,
Woven in colors, stitched with resilience,
You shine with the dreams of tomorrow,
Dreams of freedom, dreams of peace,
Oh, Jerusalem, my other half of Palestine.
The warrior blows the trumpet of triumph,
Victory is coming—one day at a time,
Stand with patience upon the green line,
Oh, Jerusalem, my other half of Palestine.
By Marivel Guzman
Munir, the poet of love
Marivel Guzman: Munir, the poet of love
Posted on April 29, 2010 by salqincity
Marivel Guzman: Munir, the poet of love
اليوم،
الساعة 07:04 مساءً
Munir…The Poet of Love
What will be of the beloved
Is your inspiration did not write it
What will be of the Love!
If your pen did not inspired it.
Munir the poet…have written
The words of love, on a paper
The Love for the word..with the pen
The love for love of the word
Munir the poet…have found
The Meaning of Inspiration
The meaning of the Word
The meaning of Love
So simple for the poet
To write down his mind
to express with melancholy
The language of love
Munir The poet of Love
inspires the word
To inspire poetry
To inspire the pen
To Write More
**************************************************
Munir…El Poeta del Amor
Traducida Por Marivel Guzman
Que seria del amado
Si tu inspiracion no lo escribiera
Que seria del Amor
Si tu pluma no lo inspirara
Munir El Poeta ha escrito
Las palabras de amor en papel
El Amor por la palabra…con la pluma
El Amor, por Amor a la Palabra
Munir..El Poeta, ha encontrado
El significado de la inspiratcion
El significado de la Palabra
El significado del Amor
Muy simple para el Poeta
Exteriorizar su mente afuera
Y expressar con melancolia
El lenguaje del Amor
Munir, El Poeta del Amor
Inspira la palabra
Para Inspirar la poesia
Para Inspirar la pluma
Para que mas escriba
*******************************************************
Munir … il poeta dell’amore
Traducción:Mario Rigli
Cosa sarà dell’amata
Se non ne scrive la tua ispirazione?
Cosa ne sarà dell’Amore!
Se non lo ispira la tua penna?
Munir il poeta ..ha scritto
Parole d’amore, su carta
Con la penna… amore per le parole
Amore per l’amore della parola
Munir il poeta … ha trovato
Il senso dell’ispirazione
Il significato della Parola
Ciò che significa Amore
Semplice per il poeta
Da scrivere per la sua mente aperta
Con malinconia da esprimere
Il linguaggio dell’amore
Munir il poeta dell’amore
Ispira la parola
Nell’ispirare la poesia
Nell’ispirare la penna
A scrivere ancora.
Support our Palestinian Brother, the Poet Munir Mezyed
Invisible Revolution – Welcome To Our World
Posted by Marivel Guzman
INVISIBLE REVOLUTION
This sensation of fullness
It is taking over your mind
It is guiding you to fight
On the surface of our world right now
There is war, violence, and craziness
And things may seem dark.
But calmly and quietly
At the same time
Something is happening underground.
Something Invisible is crawling
Dispersing and taking over, It’s
Growing like a Vine
An inner revolution is taking place
And certain individuals
Are being called to a higher light.
It is a silent revolution
From the inside out
From the ground up.
This is a global co-operation
That has sleeper cells in every nation.
It is a planetary Spiritual Conspiracy.
You won’t likely see us on T.V.
You won’t read about us in the newspaper.
You won’t hear from us on the radio.
We don’t seek glory.
We don’t wear any uniform.
We come in all shapes and sizes, colors and styles.
We are in every country and culture of the world
In cities big and small, mountains and valleys
In farms and villages, tribes and remote islands.
Most of us work anonymously
Seeking not recognition of name
But profound transformation of life.
Working quietly behind the scenes
You could pass by one of us on the street
And not even notice.
We go undercover
Not concerned for who takes the final credit
But simply that the work gets done.
Many of us may seem to have normal jobs.
But behind the external storefront
Is where the deeper work takes a place.
With the individual and collective power
Of our minds and hearts
We spread passion, knowledge, and joy to all.
Some call us the Conscious Army
As together
We co-create a new world.
Our orders come from the Spiritual Intelligence Agency
Instructing us to drop soft, secret love bombs
when no one is looking.
Poems ~ Hugs ~ Music ~ Photography ~ Smiles ~ Kind words
Movies ~ Meditation and prayer ~ Dance ~ Websites
Social activism ~ Blogs ~ Random acts of kindness…
We each express ourselves
In our own unique ways
With our own unique gifts and talents.
“Be the change you want to see in the world”
That is the motto that fills our hearts.
We know this is the path to profound transformation.
We know that quietly and humbly
Individually and collectively
We have the power of all the oceans combined.
At first glance our work is not even visible.
It is slow and meticulous
Like the formation of mountains.
And yet with our combined efforts
Entire tectonic plates
Are being shaped and moved for centuries to come.
Love is the religion we come to share
And you don’t need to be highly educated
Or have exceptional knowledge to understand it.
Love arises from the intelligence of the heart
Embedded in the timeless evolutionary pulse
Of all living beings.
Be the change you want to see in the world.
Nobody else can do it for you.
Yet don’t forget, we are all here supporting you.
We are now recruiting.
Perhaps you will join us
Or already have.
We are the legion of the willing
Saving Our World
It is a Primer Task
For in this spiritual conspiracy
All are welcome, and all are loved.
The door is always open.
~ A poem by Brian Piergrossi from his book, The Big Glow! with soft variable …
~ Army of Light Workers, moving strings in every sphere of our Uni Verse – Unite in LOVE and COMPASSION
HAPPY NEW YEAR 2012-THE BEGINNING UNRAVEL IN FRONT OF US
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