Bahrain, the Whispering Pearl

Bahrain walks with golden sand beneath her feet,
Her breath is scented with oud and date-sweet.
She lifts her veil of dawn to greet the sea,
A storyteller cradling ancient memory.

She hums through souqs with silver-tongued grace,
Wearing tradition like pearls on her face.
The wind is her letter, the waves her reply,
As minarets echo her lullaby.

She dances where oil meets innovation’s flame,
Wearing progress like a proud new name.
Her fingers write futures in towers of glass,
Yet she keeps the whispers of Dilmun’s past.

Bahrain, the mother of moonlit tide,
Cradles her people with open pride.
She sings in Arabic, dreams in gold,
A nation young, a spirit bold.

So listen—when her palms sway in the heat,
It’s Bahrain herself, with a heartbeat beneath.
She is not land. She is not just place.
She is soul, she is fire, she is face.

By Sarmistha Dey