A Sandstorm in Bastille

Walking through Bastille

The streets of Paris are alive with enticements

But I cannot see the boutique windows

Nor smell the crêpes and cafés

For a sandstorm has swallowed Bastille

Where the French revolutionaries stormed years ago

And Egyptian expats now cry for home

I left my country in turmoil

And the frenzied sands followed me to Paris

Now my mind is a whirlwind

I’m waiting for the dust to settle

To see the stars again

For the same constellations are watching Cairo…