I rest my trembling chest

by relying on a blanket of dancing leaves

the sage window is framing the tree

a picture parallels a memory of future

only a few blinks ago, I too was rowing my heart

life is a feather; it only takes place through letting go

it only dances when you let it trip through the air of breaths

all smiles and tears are an excuse to stare

at the ground or the sky filled with invisible eyes

and the parallax of people’s faces will make you

want to be a part of it again

a window of a moving train, the tail of a rat

or the city, resting near the shore

the ocean, its hair, the breeze, its voice

with arms opened wide, bursting out to azure

it all will turn into a journal of dusty poems

and the journal, someone else’s rotten box

at the end, all hands guiding you to yourself

it all is a pine, spinning through a forest of petals


By – Parisa Sheikholeslami

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