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