Susie Gharib is a graduate of the University of Strathclyde with a Ph.D. on the work of D.H. Lawrence. Her poetry and fiction have appeared in multiple venues including Adelaide Literary Magazine, The Curlew, The Ink Pantry, A New Ulster, Down in the Dirt, the PLJ, and Mad Swirl.

∞ 

I saw in the far horizon
the emblem of infinity,
the symbol I studied at school,
a prospect of possibilities, 
a sheet of endless blue 
for navigators who sought eternity.
But further learning had brought 
a halt to an elusive fallacy
for beyond the horizon were ports
of cities that teemed with tragedies, 
where strife, deprivation and wars
continued to churn societies, 
envisaging before my eyes
the rubble of humanity.

The Port

This beauty that I behold
in a moment of serenity,
which I snatch from a day that coils
upon its own banalities,
is the only sustenance that buoys
a self besieged with calamities.

My eyes that view the port
are born with a collective memory 
that conjures each scene of yore
where boats and ships and galleys
reposed upon those shores,
commencing their cultural discourse.

I sniff the ancient lore
that has lingered for centuries,
emanating from certain corners
that have not been ravished by modernity 
and wonder with a silent reproof
at a flagrant disregard for fragrant history.

What’s in a Name

What’s in a name?
I once heard in a dramatization on the BBC
of some play I failed to trace
but whose characters sound like the inmates
of a mental institute for the insane.

I have pondered over that question for years
and wondered whether there are genetic traits
inherent in a name.

Mine is Hebrew for Lilium, 
connoting a virtuous woman who was accused falsely 
but defended her fame.

When I look back upon my life,
now I am in my late fifties,
I perceive a lot of parallels with that ancient female,
for I have emerged from a persistent, slanderous campaign,
all whole, intact and without a taint.