Sarah sat by the bank of the river,
lost in thoughts... sorrow, secrets, fear clouded her mind.
She had come thus far to give up, to throw all she had worked for away.
Back at home, her parents had been making out time together.
She loved her family, just as they loved her; but nobody ever seemed to understand.
She bubbled with exuberance wherever she went, gaining the admiration of the crowd.
Yet amidst all, there seemed to be a small piece missing from her heart,
she felt it, she knew it, she tries to fill it but it remains in that imperfect shape and contour.
She had made a deadly mistake that she was going to forever regret,
when she needed direction, she was just too short to reach it.
Her actions spoke in loud volumes,
neither her family nor friends could listen.
She yearned for solace, ever trying to find the missing piece.
Deep within, her souls cries out to be understood.
"Please listen to me, stay with me and understand me"
that she cried out to whoever cared to hear.
I know God heard her.
Left: T. E. Lawrence; Right: Peter O’Toole in Lawrence of Arabia (1962) In the southwest Jordanian desert, among the sandstone mountains of Wadi Rum, there is a face carved into a rock. The broad cheeks and wide chin are framed by a Bedouin kuffiyeh headdress and ‘iqal, and beneath the carving, in Arabic, are the words: “Lawrence The Arab 1917.” If you are visiting Wadi Rum with a tour guide, you can expect to be brought to this carving. You may also be shown a spring where Lawrence allegedly bathed, as well as a mountain named after his autobiography, The Seven Pillars of Wisdom, whose rock face has been weathered into a shape that does, from some angles, look a little like a series of pillars. I am familiar with the legend of T.E. Lawrence—fluent Arabist, British hero of the Arab Revolt of 1916, troubled lover of the Arab peoples—as well as with the ways the Jordanian tourism industry has capitalized on this legend. Nevertheless, I am still surprised when I hear someone mentio...
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