A room full of joy

Azadeh Azad
by Azadeh Azad
23-Jan-2008
 


 

 

"We, of that time, are no longer the same" - Pablo Neruda

 

within the folds of time

I grew to be a story

of departures

aches        silences

 

of ties by synapses

of prance over the loops

of distances.

 

in pursuit of illusions

I became a night

carnival

of siren songs

in rains of romances

 

of plunging stars and scars

slipping in my heart’s

tender trances

 

of burst bubbles

and pretences

of another

age.

 

in the brink

of my soul’s

autumn

I settle as the body

of my room       round

with one single limpid wall

that dances for

the syntax of joy

 

wall of past tears

heedless to the curses

of your glances

 

and a ceiling of air

across which skip-fly

birds of bright

chances.

 

don’t be surprised

to see how

my sorrows rise

for lack of

weight.


©2008, Azadeh Azad

Balatarin
Share/Save/Bookmark

Recently by Azadeh AzadCommentsDate
پیروزی نسرین ستوده پس از ٤٩ روز اعتصاب غذا
32
Dec 04, 2012
نامه به سازمان عفو بین الملل برای آزادی نسرین ستوده
1
Nov 30, 2012
مفهوم سازی واژه گونه (۳-٩)
1
Nov 27, 2012
more from Azadeh Azad
 
Azadeh Azad

Thanks

by Azadeh Azad on Thu Jan 24, 2008 11:17 AM PST

Azarin Jaan,

I feel your past pain. But remember : we cannot have joy without sorrow as we cannot have life without death.

Also, without pain and suffering, you wouldn't be as wise and strong as you are today. Would you?  Enjoy every moment of it.

Cheers,

Azadeh

 


  •  
Azarin Sadegh

Lovely poem.

by Azarin Sadegh on Thu Jan 24, 2008 01:13 AM PST

Dear Azadeh,

Your beautiful poem brought back some old painful memory. It was during the war and bombings. I kept a diary of those days that I call my "closet period". There is a page in there, almost like a common memory, that we could have shared.  

"One day I asked my mother why people around us were not laughing anymore. My mother remained quiet, and I didn't dare to tell her how much I was missing the joy of the world and how badly I desired even just a little piece of that missing joy. The joy, in the dimension of 3x3x3, where I could forget, only for one second, the rest."

Thanks,

Azarin


  •