Salaam By Renee Reed-Miller

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Peace be on the jeweler
in the heart of the balad,
whose charms hang from hooks
like stems of golden wheat.

Peace be on this saffron-scented street
where dust and diesel
perfume camel hair rugs, and the aroma of 
Marlboro mixed with zatr
infuses my hair.

Peace be on the mint leaves
floating in my cola.
Thanks be to God for
the ruins of Jerash
where Roman doorways shelter
wild, spreading stalks of mint,
where wind whispers
fresh blessings daily.

Peace be on Rania
who collects our cans of
Pepsi,
Miranda,
Teem for recycling,
to pay for the new rug
in her father's tent.