Guardians of Light

Guardians of Light,
Kindred broken spirits are we.
Limping, walking, and running through our journeys of healing.

Guardians of Light,
Love – the river that connects us all
A silent symphony waiting to be heard;
beyond barriers of self, bias, thoughts.

Guardians of Light,
Friends of divine intervention saving us from ourselves in our journeys to be free;
Wrenching us out of the depths of our blind ensnarement
Into the healing that is grace.

Guardians of Light
Illumination…
Love…
Walking soundlessly
Weaving paths of brilliant peace.

7/13/2014 Mariam E. Haddad ©2014


Ripples of Silence:

In the silence that comes from internal freedom,
I resonate generations deep.
I hear the echo of my words today,
the chainsaw of peace breaking the shackles
imprisoning me.

I stand.
Waves of divine love washing over me,
warming every space within.

Finally,
the stone garden of my soul blossoms to life as I stand in Eden,
watching the tree of knowledge wither and die.

The tree of life begins to breathe.
Everything I've been blind to perceive,
begins to breathe.

In the silence that comes from peace,
I stand free,
generations deep.

Mariam E. Haddad - Copyright 2012

Lessons from My Roots:

Seed of Life

Do you know who you are? From whom you came to be? I am your roots, deep and strong, breathing, clutching the life giving soil.

I am the yesterday who gave you today.

Do you water me still? As you walk, your feet caressing the road of life, have you paused to uncover me?

I am your roots, deep and strong, breathing, centered, clutching the life giving soil, seed of the next generation.

I am your roots, from the tree of your being. Look, see me. I will tell you how this tree grew.

Jido Salim- My Father’s Father

The first story I will tell is one of a little boy. His name was Salim. He used to run in the fields of Syria. It was a different time back then. His little feet would kick up dust, as he ran on the dirt road close to home.

He wasn’t allowed the freedoms the children today enjoy.

The gift of play, the easy knowledge that there would be food on the table for him, the feel of a mother and father’s gentle caress, the blessing of an education, the freedom to learn how to be all that he could be.

Salim was just himself, himself and the land, the rocky, hard land.

When he was four, he became the man of his family. He took his responsibility seriously. Salim worked hard every day, doing the work of a man, to help his widowed mother and little sister.

This rocky soil was a hard land. But, it was the land of his life.It was the one that added food to these roots, watering the lives that would spring from them. As the days passed, marked by the harvest of his fields, Salim grew into a man.

Life was his education. Like every human being, he was born with special gifts.

Salim had magic hands. His spirit danced with words, in his native Arabic tongue, and an understanding of how to grow a garden of life. Salim’s magic hands grew whatever he touched. And, whatever he touched grew,
and grew, and grew. He understood life by the lessons that only the land could teach.

When he was a man full grown, a champion of many years, with eight surviving children, a wife and mother to feed, he created a dream of freedom. He waited patiently, knowing he would move to a desert land of freedom, Texas, in America.

Finally there, he created a magic garden, for beauty, for peace, and to feed his family. His imagination inspired reality, the reality of a fertile garden in dry, barren ground. He thought and pointed, pointed and tended, tended and nurtured.

Then, there just was whatever he had imagined. I can still smell the apricots plucked fresh from trees. They puckered our lips from their tart wake-up call.

He created Eden with his pomegranate trees, apple trees, plum trees, pear trees, and peach trees. Grape vines, tomato plants, eggplant, green beans, watermelons, cucumbers and so much more I wish I could recall.

The extensions of this root, that came from others, grew deeper in the ground as his children were blessed with children of their own.

We would sit round about his table, in the summer, my cousins and I. He would come in, hot and sweaty from his garden, with hands caked with dirt, gifting us with his fresh bounty.

I wish I had understood as a child, that he was giving each one of us, a small piece of his heart, his hopes, his dreams and the realization of those dreams every time he brought us grapes to eat, food he grew from his hands through hard work and love.

To nurture us, without words, using nature as his palette. I can still taste the taboulie fresh with Salim’s vegetables. My aunts would make it,
to eat with fresh grape leaves, kibbee fresh from the fire. There we were, the harvest from the garden of his life. Happy, hot and sweaty from running with my cousins in the summer sun. I didn’t understand his quiet smile, as he watched us play, tending his garden, nurturing us, tending the roots from the tree he grew.

His hands were gnarled, but strong and so capable. I never had the chance to sit and learn the lessons of his heart. I was the impatient youth, who couldn’t understand the language of her roots. Busy with life, not taking the time to understand and appreciate the sacrifices given, for my freedom. The freedom I took so much for granted. I hope that as I recognize these lessons that he gave me, his spirit can hear and feel the thanks I give, with every beat of my heart.

The river of life, that began as a trickle in Syria, thrives here in America. It is in retrospect that I understand what he never said.

Jido, grandfather.
Salim.
Salim’s lessons to me, to all of us.

He taught me courage. He was a courageous man, probably the most courageous I have ever met. He had a dream, was willing to sacrifice himself to find that dream, for his family and future generations. Through this action, he taught love…to serve others.

He left what he knew, that comfortable place that tore at his heart, at an age when people are almost ready to retire. To begin again, for his children, his wife, the seeds yet to come. The mouths yet to feed.

He lived with the sword of courage only a fire from the heart can wield; that only peace, strength and faith can win.

Salim, a man of courage.

He taught me true integrity. He listened to the voice within, he followed it, he succeeded. He won, when others lost the battle of self, he listened for the voice of God, intent on the path only he could see, had faith where others may have laughed and called him crazy, he won.

Salim, a man of true integrity.

He taught me humility. He was a proud man, who lived humbly. He was a man who gave thanks to God, for every material possession he had. He didn’t boast or brag, he just was. A man of magic hands, magic words, and a magic heart.

Salim, a man of humility.

He taught me to never stop learning. He had only a first grade education. He taught himself to read, to write. He educated himself. His magic words of his soul, came out in the form of poetry. Words with a world behind them, about life, love, and the spirit.

Salim, a graduate of life.

He always said, “Inti mitle fiden!" You are like a bull, strong, proud, stubborn.You are the grand-daughter of Salim Haddad! You know who you are, you know who you will be. You are strong, proud and yes stubborn. You can do it!

Salim, a man who knew who he was and taught me to have the courage to understand who I truly am and who I can be.

His eyes said what he never did, perhaps what he never could. He taught me faith, true faith, to trust in God enough to trust in yourself. God was his only partner, no matter what.

From his magic garden, where he could grow anything, to magic words that planted the seed of spirit, to understanding the strength and courage we need to survive our walk here on earth.

He taught me the lessons of life. Plant the seed, tend it, grow strong roots. The tree will stand, if it has strong roots.

From root to heart, all of us blossoming in the summer sun, full of laughter, the scent of freshly cut cucumbers in my mouth, I remember the lessons from my youth.

I pass them on to you.

Perhaps one day you will pass them on to the seeds you hope to grow into strong roots. Perhaps your children will know what my grandfather taught me. I trust that they will grow, trees that will stand, who will weather the storm, who will be for generations.

1. Live with courage.
2. Listen to your heart.
3. Be true to your journey.
4. Be strong.
5. Let God be your partner.
6. Express yourself with the talents God gave you; they are the mark he intended for you to leave on the earth.
7. Never stop learning.
8. Grow.
9. Enjoy the summer sun.
10. Enjoy the harvest.
11. Prepare for the winter.
12. Don’t give up.
13. Dream.
14. Love.
15. Be at peace.

Memory Eternal Jido.....

Copyright 2011 Mariam Haddad


FREEDOM
I have chosen to take off
the old habits of stories
that told me who I was.

I have chosen to be free.

I kneel at the dawn with my arms outstretched ,
my head thrown back,
drinking in the ecstasy of it all.

Truly,
I am nothing…
and everything.

I am the was,
I am the is.

The stars shine brightly
mirroring the sun.
Night is day,
Day is dawn.

The daughter of my fathers and mothers before me,
my line has been freed,
from the holds of the past
To enjoy the new day.

This night sky of day
is the dawn
of those who come after me.

Blessed,
and finally,
free.

Copyright 2011 Mariam Haddad


I AM

There are moments of timelessness within my soul,
where I can glimpse the me,
the I who I say I am,
the me who lives behind the me who thinks.

One day,
I shall walk
in the river of calm
that is the conduit between realms,
where uncertainty is green,
and time is not.
There is nothing but the me
of the me,
which is inside my heart, perceptions and choice.

Copyright 2010 Mariam Haddad


LIFE HAPPENED...ON THE WAY TO MY DREAMS

You could say that we all begin life as children who dream. Or is it that as children, we knew truly what we needed? We truly could dream with what felt and was innocent faith, a stand of being in a perceived existence we wanted to try on.

I remember being that child who dreamed, and dreamed awake. So much so, that I could hardly tell reality from dreams and had no difficulty believing that I would actually achieve all that I dreamed of.

I have always been on the way to my dreams, to living them as reality.

The only problem has been that life kept happening.

What I never intrinsically understood was, that in order to have it, to hold dreams as the fabric of life, I needed to choose which dreams would be. In choosing them, I am the her who could have them. In being her, the dreams would begin to exist until IT was the reality.

Today, I find myself, walking inside of a life where I have cracked open the dream state of the child and sit with the magic wand of words, ready to actually create life from a blank palette; ready to paint with all the colors of my talents and thoughts in order to achieve that which I will, and that which God would will me to have.

I’m ready to walk into my dreams, finally.

I understand that on the way to those dreams….life will happen. Learning to shape opportunity as it rises up, learning to release the emotional attachments to the vision and allowing it to unfold in its own way and time creates the fertile ground from which it can grow.

I’m finding as I walk down the road to my dreams that life does keep happening; only I get to happen to life now. In the end, I suppose that truth just is and that what is true stands and the rest falls away.

I know what my truth is.

It is we who have the power to see everything or nothing. It is we who have the power to be everything or nothing. Only we can do everything or nothing believing.

We are the Merlins of life for ourselves. God has created a myriad of dimension and possibility. In the end, we are the magic ingredient. He waits on us to happen to ourselves.

Today…I was on the way to my dreams, and life happened.

Today, when life happened….I happened to it.

Mariam E. Haddad
Copyright 2010