Turn Around*

It was the absolute reign of silence, which started singing at your doorstep

The moment my voice was banned from your memories

Frost was suddenly a curse, cast upon every warm drop of blood

Flowing inside beating hearts

No more the refreshing chilly breeze to cool down the wounds

Spring was a dream of melting white snow, of refilled streams and of growth

Summer was the distant thought of fertility

Fall seemed more like a legend of fulfillment and blessing

And winter was nothing more than tales of tranquility

For your silence had casted all the seasons away

Leaving the eternal void out of every sentiment and perception

Bound to linger at your door, I wait here

For you to stop dreaming of yourself, to awaken

And to start living you instead.

______________________________________________

* Could also be considered as some 'Chronicles of Courage XII', but not necessarily.

Wind Chimes

It blew from the south
The chilly breeze of the early morning reaching our streets and our windows
Having already traveled over all the lands
Shivering or trembling we all heard the teeth clattering
Was it simply the wind howling or did we hear silent screams in the wind?

I remember the roses losing their dashing colours to the wind
Then the pale petals fell one after another as they listened to its stories
Stories of daisies falling to the curse of axes
of Lilies plagued by chainsaw
of roots being burnt to ashes 
And of contaminated springs and rivers

In the early morning, when most of us were still fast asleep
The breeze then spoke the prophecy of the wall
Of one so mighty and so high to capture every wind and to stop every storm
The fearful words passed through every brick and every stone
A thick dark fog shaded our windows, turning the sunlight away from every room

I sit here, reaching out for your cold hand, which I find no more
And the only warmth I feel upon my heart is the chanting of the mice
“Beware that one day
A forest will grow
The birds will nest
As the wind will blow.”

Interlude

Two recent events, happening within a few day, left me no more room for silence, one was the 'Neda Agha-Soltan' Scholarship of the Queen's College in England and the other one the execution of 'Ehsan Fattahian' this morning.Why is the world so obsessed with dead heros and ignores the very living ones? Since over a month a petition was set up to rescue Ehsan from death, not enough signatures were there to save him, not enough for Mr. Ban Ki Moon. As if it weren't obvious that this young man was not guilty, as if millions have to shout for him to hear and as if these millions were waiting for his death to make another pretty frame for the new idol on their walls. I tried so hard to keep silent, I tried so hard to write of my love and of life, to avoid direct statements but I can not. It is no more just the green movement, it is no more only politics, it is people I cannot understand, it is the same old story, the one bringing Nodetians together, the one from which we needed to protect ourselves. Why do people hate living heros in front of their eyes so much, while they write stories, make film and sing songs about the dead ones? Why do people find geniouses so repelling while they love to talk about all what they achieve? Why?

Secrets of the Night

My heart plays tricks on me
Evil tricks to overcome my hasty mind
A mind believing to have overcome the heart
A heart stronger than the mind could ever believe

My heart plays all the tricks on me,
I have feared while trying to predict every micro feeling
So I completed my system of all equations
Every dependency and independency taken into account
Every curve and every line put in the right order
Every coefficient and quotient calculated
And every slope already balanced

And yet, my heart plays tricks on me
In the night, when the lights go out
When the equations are no more seen
When my calculations fall to hands of fatigue
My heart starts pulling the strings
And I fall hopelessly

Chronicles of Courage XI

Tu ne sauras jamais…
No, you would never know
Know of the woman, who spent some of her best days
Living with you
Every moment, everyday, waking up smiling at you
And going to sleep while staring at your sleeping face
You would never either know of your life together or of her
For you spent all the time, sleeping under the thickest blanket

You could never know
How she caressed your short hair,
How she stared at the closed eyelids,
How she stayed at your bedside, making sure you were safe and warm
Or how she treasured your hands
Hands that never intended to reach out to her

She never saw your eyes
She never heard your voice
She never had your arms around her
She never told you of herself
Even the slightest trace of her time by your side
Would be wiped long before you are awaken

Yet her magic will grant you a sound sleep
Sealed with the kiss she left before leaving.
Sweet dreams, my love, sweet dreams!