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