trade off

 


Poetry is how I repent,
and I,
am the greatest sinner.

I’m aware of where inspiration comes from,
there is a price to pay for everything,
and I’m driven mad,
with accounting myself.

The greater the urge to rid myself of fodder,
the easier the pen flows.

The decision to be drowning in prose,
means you also exorcise your demons relentlessly.

W.E.

Painting by Hossein Irandoust Moghadam

 

supple soul


You age,
stiffen your sinews,
bones etched with hieroglyphics of hurt
and beautifully,
your soul becomes supple.

I couldn’t show you how this happens,
when vigour clouds your judgement,
when youth gives you hope,
yet numbs you of tasting.

There’s an agreement with time,
relinquishing your affairs to their allotted appointments,
trusting beyond your comprehension,
faith if you will,
in being faithless insofar as holding God accountable,
rather, holding Him capable,
of anything, of anything.

Your soul aches for this flexibility,
but first,
your body waits for the battering.

-Wesam El dahabi

Don’t MIND your gratitude

 

How do you weave the tapestry of gratitude into your heart so that your limbs lead the way?

I could answer, but answering would be worse!

Gratitude sitting in the mind,
is lesser than;
gratitude sitting in your heart;
is lesser than gratitude sitting in your limbs;
is lesser than gratitude acted out.

W.E.

wanting

It’s hard to express kindness,
as much as you ache to,
when the aches,
of having it beat out of you,
remind you to lift your guard.
But there is a caress,
tender and wafting,
a breath on your neck,
a whisper by your ear,
that disarms you,
and suddenly,
you only gush kindness.
Being trapped is a choice,
if you listen intently,
you’ll hear it,
your want will turn into your breath.

W.E.

Image is the amazing work of Hossein Irandoust Moghadam

Intimacy with silence

I adore your poise,
your pose, and your noise,
that is, your lack thereof.

How orchestral is your quiet,
majestic is your silence,
this deafening and drumming of nothing at once,
this wonderful humming of quiet and calm.

I’m mad I say, deeply mad,
obsessed with ears that listen,
and a mouth that’s mute.

W.E.

The beautiful picture is by Hossein Irandoust

Perhaps once upon a time my soul met his in this abyss of pre-world obedience and silence.
I’m infatuated by his work to say the least.

affinity of a man

If your spasm to do,
is not stronger,
than your spasm to speak,
or even think,
then you are involuntarily living.

You’re merely a collection of material markers,
your spirit, has not been tamed enough,
to learn the wisdom of temperament,
and the power that comes with serving,
nor the control that falls into your hands.

But manhood has been washed away,
into the abyss of in-definition,
to appease the lazy.

Your affinity to help,
must be stronger than your affinity to judge,
that is,
using ones hands or other abilities,
should be at the battlefront,
as opposed to looking from afar.

-Wesam El dahabi