diary of a tree
book 3
Goli Khalatbary

This book is dedicated to those who have faced cancer.

Books 1 and 2 of this quartet have been published
by Mage Publishers, Washington DC, USA




snow falls in free whispers
taunting winters
to foster
icicle tales
I am stranded here
in the full moon vagaries
stringing along memories
and random encounters




I gave you back
the dream pebble at the foot of a mountain


the hyena laughed
with a passing lark




the traveler:
jugglers have tossed us
to wind dwellers
I am still sifting
through thirsty rivers




the lovers

one had the eyes
of rainbow skies
part sun part rain
part here part there

the other the tired voice
of hazy freedom
part torn part home
part here part there




can it get any lonelier
it can and it will

can I induce my being
to a sapless pulse
I cannot I cannot




beloved

is there a memorial for remembrance




today
my friend the crow returned
in agitated flutter
the city is empty it declared
love messages on the walls
have been whitewashed

even the indelible one
in the valley of rose water




when you close doors and windows
are you there for the one who knows

are you gazing at your empty mirror
waiting for what was to be once more

are you not missing a pressing present
in that place where you still lay dormant




scarecrow alleged
poets are boring
they know it all in advance

boring? mused the poet
I saved this song from the hatchet
so you could continue your dance

with the birds to scatter
and the wind as partner
and darkness at distance




under torrential rain
I told the child

you are not I
I am not you
but you and I are one
but not us as one
only one as one
and one in all

the child said so we are rain




notes:

heard breathing heave
felt the air falter

when is it time to propagate
the legend of the pomegranate

I consulted the elder
the advice: ask the yew
all right I am asking you




all day long
I ached for a friendly presence
a kin a caring ally
a sense of permanence

was tenderness waning
from extreme craving




to the woodcutter:

upon my turn to be felled
lovingly lift up
the emerald eternity ring
stellar saplings
are still romancing spring




I was born on a night of mourning
shadow playing with sunbeams
defying challenging rejecting
the allegations of butterflies




the minstrel of solstices
chanted it for all times
the release of rain
is more bonding than a chain

you heard but did you listen




we met on a shooting star
during an unclaimed winter

moonrise was only a breath away

the lovers




I am a pilgrim of light
seeking filaments
to spin around myself

my friend the crow is marred by black

in this season scarecrow
salvages borrowed colors




is daylight fading
there seems to be no borders
between the flowers
and thorn clusters

or are they merging
with blind seers




during fall
watching my leaves follow the cold wind
to lay down in fallow fields
I understood the reason for no reason at all




how does tomorrow work in the future
the little robin was undecided

you directed it to a red apple in the snow
embers amidst ashes you said




love and life

to remember they leave
the instant they arrive

and forget it all
the instant they quicken




the road stopped by
looking pale and tired
the sea is a mirage it insisted
however you look indigo

it is the winter cast I mumbled
once it is over I will recover
but it persisted
have you mingled with a new plant

why did I blush




two white horses
vanished in the snow
but appearances are illusive
the whole story evasive
this stage transitory

it snows slowly silently




in that finite space
where give and take
coincide and ignite
we expanded the sun

the lovers




to master silence
the first step is to break it

break up break down
never breaking even
never quite breaking off
nor breaking away




the entire span of my being
has receded
from distracted affection

this will exact its toll
in luminosity
and in fire eager fire

may it not be
during a solar eclipse
nor in destitute times




is all this true asked the chameleon

remember the saffron village
and the shelter at the land's end?
mist rose from the summits
fireflies flickered their presage

interpretation is affected by subjective perception









2005 - Tehran, Iran

diary of a tree
book 4
Goli Khalatbary

To my mother's heart.

Book 1 and 2 of this quartet have been published
by Mage Publishers, Washington DC, USA




softly   softly
enfolded in birdsongs
and loose silver dust
I dissolve ties
holding me to this ground
its insidious lies
its perfidious times

sorrow is corroding my roots




the wind vowed
I'll collect love pollen
to heal blue lesions

the wind vowed
I'll twirl in blind alleys
reveal other visions

the wind vowed
I'll adorn dreams
to reduce erosions




beloved
how swift was the twist of fate
to wreck our rainbow season




my friend the crow is disconsolate
why is it so disused
the little room in the red courtyard
where the fountain remains quiet
while the well is filled
by the voice of the local bard




disenchantment
is like a bat in a sunbird's heart




the lovers

one had magnolias in bloom
reflected in the eyes
asked where is tomorrow

the other whispered
to seasoned rocks
where is yesterday




the elder:

I am too tired
for another foliage story
sing your song
of honeysuckle and bergamots

the poet said

but the dancer plants forget-me-nots




notes:

the road is nearby
conceals the polestar
leaves me confused
guideless   sightless

also: where are you
when not here

also: waiting for dawn
at the wrong end of night




the wanderer:
I dreamt of a green hand
in a glass case
as tall as the rest of the forest

am I finally in the right place




living the bad is better than imagining the worst




remembered moments
rise from deep rifts
to be enclosed
in a burning embrace

gray gazelles shrink their hearts
to survive drought spells

if I learn to achieve this
would you fit me in the arms of tenderness




so it is now
what was not to be
solitude spreading
with the profusion of grass
green parrots pecking
at nascent stars
I fumigating
fireflies' fables




what does no strings attached mean
asks the child
I have just watched a puppeteer

a kite is reeling in adverse currents




scarecrow sighs
it's back to bits and pieces

what do you hope to harvest
staying bonded to missed lands




the dragonfly came back
from the land of ominous drums

greetings from the one
who is aging without a smile

greetings from the one
who spurned a thousand signs

greetings from the one
whose voice is confined




in the narrow space
allocated by time
where fate is decided
before a word is said

before the call to grieve
I stand in the summer light
invoke merciful powers
and pray for a reprieve




how did a step too far
lead to this bitter end

why did a step too far
trespass on the innocent space
that was the meeting ground
of white horses on starry nights




you think you know the colour of day
until you meet night   daytime

you think you know the colour of night
until you strip darkness   nighttime




one came before sunrise
asked   was it a fantasy
(I was sleepy
it didn't make much sense)

the other came after sunset
said   it was a fantasy
(I was sleepy
it didn't make much sense)

they both missed the solar hours
the lovers




my friend the crow
is clad in annoyance
hesitant to trust
my clumsy new colours

scarecrow has no longer access
to this or other fields
having denied credence
to the poet and the dancer and the lovers




so simple so simple   reaching surrender
emptiness could no longer constrain me
absence figured out other meanings when
we stopped speaking the same language after
separation   searching crossroads I forgave
transcendence for being so absolute

that was the end of the end




I stand alone

no blueberries for robins
downpours on stints
murmuring in the wind
the dust will leave imprints

I stand alone




birds nests are the secret
of a hollow heart
still awaiting flight
with bubble flowers
and bursts of light

the cycle is complete




...just one more breath...




in the heart of rain and lightning
the magician performed in thunder
weaved moon tides to entwine stars
weaved stars to wrap around nights
weaved nights in rain and lightning
counterpoint   interplay   merger




from across continents
and countless oceans
enticing obstinate clouds
to disperse soundlessly

a new harmony




this morning
emerging from the remains of winter
I responded to the rousing
of orange blossoms

one of the multiple facets of the impossible
is a mutated possible













2006 - Tehran, Iran