Poem

Almost Bethlehem

Published in Volume 18 Issue 3 | Comments 0

Nizwa, Oman
December 2007

The faint trail of luban
scented the sand-cold night.
Lampposts flickered in Morse code
till dust proved gems
between unhurried steps.

Two exiled nomads
searched for home
past midnight, through a town –
almost Bethlehem.

Meeting, almost meeting
at the lantern’s sacred circle
that humbled crowned pride,
exalted hay-fragrant faith,

where star beacons heralded
with the promise, no, the certainty
of hearts aflame
and angel-streamed Light.

Palm fronds rustle whispers
under a thin crescent moon.
The furrowed falaj stream trickles
giddily around the baked-mud stables
sheltering manure-hoofed goats and donkeys

that have never heard of Bethlehem,
yet twitching, bleating, braying carols
at these two strange pilgrims
passing by.

About Maria Robson

After studies in Applied Linguistics and Education at McGill University, Maria Robson was employed by UN-ICAO at the Civil Aviation College in Doha. While living and working in Australia, Canada, Vietnam, and the Middle East, Maria developed an interest in the literature and mystical traditions across cultures. Currently back in Montreal, she is at work transcribing a trunkful of scribblings into poetry. Her collection of poems from Oman, Laughing Shamal, will appear in December.

Howling in Place

By Amy Logan

Lately I’m hearing a lot more howls – and more robust, realistic ones – so either my neighbors (and their dogs) are seriously getting into it now, or real coyotes are responding in kind.

Comments 1

Nature

Reestablishing Kinship with All Life in a Time of Chaos

By Leah Rampy

"This powerful being, so seldom seen by most of us, leaves us breathless. I look at the faces, each one with huge smiles of pure joy. “Did you see that? Did you see that?” The sky, the sea, the birds, the humpbacks, all create a symphony of beauty and connection that captures us fully and completely. Everything exists only in this time, this place."

Comments 1

From a Kosmos Reader

Hopeful Essay Penned by Firelight

By Cornelia Reynolds

I am writing in the harsh light of a lantern and my blazing wood stove on the fourth night of a “public safety” blackout currently forecast to last for three more days. I am not near a fire or an evacuation zone. But that could change as quickly as a new fire report.

Comments 0