Paper Poetry Daou ضوء Series
The Sun is Raining
Daou being Arabic for light & illumination
We’re in the bayou, you and I. Hidden like Sleeping Beauty in a bower of Spanish moss, on a bed of water except the tale is true and fairies applaud whenever we awaken to memory.
Enlightenment — casting a sheen like the East Texas humidity; its kiss, breeze lifting the hairs on the arms of our souls, a rainbow-ed aura bequeathed from the goddess of the lake’s depths. Pore deep, hearts soaking open — awed even as past and future-present pain breaks them.
Not a cloud on the horizon, eternal Now of greens, grays, blues, oars drawing ripples on the mirror without marring. No scratchy sound either, solely water-song — ibis, osprey, and owl singing harmony, woodpecker percussion. Laughter of angels diving from lily pads in mimicry of Light’s acolytes.
Father god, the sunflower Sun, guffawing petals of gold baby teeth and spirals. Seeding storms, light jackknifing cleanly into the lake then propelling itself upward like fields of Excaliburs we are born to wield
and follow. We feel Light’s wetness still. In reverent stillness, closing our eyes as breath opens to belief in what lies beyond the Bald Cypress, alligators watching from the roots of what is to come.
Who would have thunk the Sun rains?
© Jenine Bsharah Baines
Absolutely, as I claim in the first stanza, this story happened. I have long yearned to share it.
When Indubala Kachhawa approached me about participating in Paper Poetry’s poetry series, I knew it was time for the Muse and me to get to work.
Daou — ضوء — is the Arabic word for light, illumination.
Being 97% Lebanese, I was thrilled when Indubala okayed my request to make “daou” my theme. I’ll be sharing the story behind my love of “daou” in my next poem, California Sun Cup.
The Muse and I will explore our inner light’s wild re-flowering.
Thank you, Indubala Kachhawa, Carolyn Hastings, and Suntonu Bhadra for the honor of featuring my poetry in the Poetry Series, as well as for the home for past poems.
Thank you, dearest readers — the “daou” in my day.