In the praise of the succulent

Your verdant dress 

its lush layers caress

the sun rays lurking through my window.

Juicy with water, your engorged leaves, 

more like petals, surround you like a sufi whirling 

the center of the universe. 

Your luscious limbs twirl, 

slowly, 

like a paper-thin dough thrown in the air 

and landing on coals and stones become a loaf

that feeds the poor.

You surpass them all: cacti, carpet weeds, 

or any other member of the distant family.

You flourish on scarcity of water

-beauty being the drive to survive-

you shoot from the green, white and almost purple 

stems, and propagate in all directions. 

Gracefully, with minimum care,

you sprout tenderness and repair 

to our injured souls.