My mind is a forest
Boundless,
Ever growing.
Ever tangling.
My mind is a house,
deathless,
Ever glowing
Ever warm.
My mind is a lake
Dauntless,
Ever glimmering,
Ever moving.
I wander from tree to tree.
I wander from room to room.
I wander from coast to coast.
Where did you go?
Beyond the house,
Beyond the forest,
Beyond the lake,
Into the deep blue sea.
Into the cold black sea.
At first,
There was a crescent moon,
To guide me.
Then,
There was a full moon,
to blind me.
And now,
There’s a winning moon,
failling me.
My arms are sore,
My feet are frozen,
My eyes are burning.
I cannot last longer.
Where did you go?
There’s a trickle on my cheek.
There’ a sickle in my eyes
There’s a ripple on the lake.
And a voice telling me,
I don’t want you to follow me.
I don’t want you to care for me.
I don’t want you to love me.
My mouth is full of salt,
My mouth is full of water,
My mouth is full of bitterness.
Dearest,
Do you think a human being can control her heart?
Maybe you do…
Yours is hidden in a high tower.
Yours is hidden in a lost island.
Yours is hidden in a wild ocean.
That no one can cross.
Only fools venture to those waves.
Only lovers venture through the silence.
Only madwomen venture to that darkness.
But look through my eyes….
Beyond the waves I see peace.
Beyond the silence I see smiles.
Beyond the darkness I see a flicker.
Is it a candle?
Is it a star?
Is it a wildfire?
Burning and burning.
Like my heart,
Like my mind,
Like my hope.
And all I want is to…
Dance until I fall.
Sing until I falter.
Swim until I drown.
Lost in the motion
Lost in the emotion.
Lost in the ocean.
Lost but willing to be found.
All trees must die.
Some turn into ashes in a blaze.
Some cave into their rotten inside.
Some are pulled out from their roots.
The first day is horrendous.
Birds chirp nervously and fly to and fro.
Squirrels screech indignantly and hop into the emptiness.
Children look up anxiously running up and down.
Where did it go?
I’d rather your stomp remained.
I’d rather your roots remained,
I’d rather your bark remained.
Keeping me anchored on this earth.
Lonely sentinel, tell me…
Where are your forefathers?
Where are your mothers?
Where are your brothers?
You are surrounded by
Bricks
Concrete
Tired tired old houses.
But where are your people ?
I know a pine tree just like you,
across that field.
I know an oak tree just like you
on the other end of that road.
I know a beech just like you
behind that house.
They remember too…
When my own people were not here.
And you swayed,
And you stood,
And you rose,
in the thick mist.
over the marshes.
into everlasting woods.
For centuries,
For millenniums,
For light years.
Or not…
Fire, your enemy, always existed.
Wind, your enemy, always existed.
Hale, your enemy, always existed.
My forehead against your bark.
My lips against your leaves.
My fingers entwined in your shoots.
Tell me, tell me…
Of the great abyss of your history.
Of the great bitterness of your history.
Of the great melody of your history.
Yes, that song…
I hear, when the winds blows,
I learn, when the breeze rises.
I join, when the night falls.
And time doesn’t mean anything anymore.
I stand with you,
against the storm.
I brace with you,
against the cold.
I rise with you,
against all odds.
And we long for dawn.
And we long for spring.
And we long for forests.
Together,
We’ll last longer.
Together,
We’ll rise higher.
Together,
We’ll grow deeper.
A happy homely forest.
To keep your scars safe.
To keep my anguish safe.
To keep our hope safe.
My might oak,
My tender aspen,
My gentle maple.
I know how lonely you are.
I know how scared you are.
I know how brave you are.
As you waver.
As you shiver.
As you shudder.
Losing limbs,
Losing leaves,
Losing space.
and yet you endure….
Like a prayer,
Like a dream,
Like a hope…
Resilient.
An acorn tumbling on the ground.
A stem rising from the ground.
A trunk reaching for the sky.
How utterly beautiful.
How deeply moving.
How softly yearning.
For that hope rooted in you.
For that gentleness weaved in you.
For that richness drooping from you.
My shelter,
My strengthener
My reviver.
Ever growing.
Under His Grace,
Under His Bounty,
Under His Care.
There’s a rose growing on this tree.
White
Bedwed
Blushing.
The tired weather beaten oak says
Get away.
Climb away.
Scatter away,
I am rotten inside.
I am ever uprooted.
I am never growing.
One thorn nestles against his barlk.
One petal falls to his roots
One stem reaches for his branch.
The hopeful ever blushing rose whisper
Your trunk is pure.
Your roots are fragrant.
Your branches reach for the stars.
He bristles,
She shivers.
Her seasons come and go,
scattering petals.
His seasons come and go,
scattering leaves.
And acorns
that nestle against her roots.
Furious winds,
Blistering cold,
Deafening rains,
And yet she still clings to him.
And yet he still draws her closer.
How long has it been?
How many years has it been?
How many springs has it been?
Long enough,
Too long,
Yet not long enough.
Another bruise blossom
Another sweet fragrance
Another soft caress.
Another branch,
Tall and strong.
Another leaf,
Light and vibrant.
Another lenticel,
Deep and thirsty.
So thirst…
For that blossom.
For that fragrance.
For that caress.
To feel human again.
To feel held again.
To feel real again.
And love…
I learned a new language
To forget about the harsh wind.
I learned a new language
To forget about forgetting the wind.
I learned a new language
To grow wings.
And I flew
Through the familiar forests,
Beyond the gentle hills,
Over to the lonely summit.
May I rest here?
I spoke with words I didn’t know.
I sang with words I didn’t know.
I dreamt in words I didn’t know.
It made the rocks rumble.
It makes the pebbles scatter.
It made the land slide.
And my wings were struck.
I fluttered,
and fluttered.
I frayed,
and frayed.
I failed,
and failed.
I heard a voice…
Was it the torrent?
Was it the pine tree?
Was it the lone wolf?
It was you.
And I sang,
how I sang!
And I paused….
and listened,
and waited,
and waited,
What was this song?
Your gentle and earnest answer?
A trick woven by rustling leaves?
An fading echo of my own plea.
Foolish little thrush.
What language must you learn this time?
What lesson must you learn this time?
What direction must you learn this time?
Where?
Why?
How?
Tired,
tired little wings.
Broken,
broken little heart.
Shattered,
shattered little dream.
You were too slow.
You were too trusting.
You were too gentle,
To avoid the hurling hale.
To evade the rushing rain,
To escape the swirling river.
And now your beak is full of sand.
And now your wings are full of muck.
And now your heart is leaden with moss.
How will you escape again?
How will you hope again?
How will you learn again?
And you wait,
wait forever.
To hear that distant melody again.
To the firm shoulders
Carrying me.
To the warm embrace,
Holding me.
To the gentle gaze,
Watching me.
How near you are,
yet adrift.
As the winter becomes summer,
As the night becomes dawn,
As the continents become islands.
All must change.
All must flourish.
All must fade.
To that house,
With that cheerful sunroom.
To those forests,
With secret passages.
To that pasture,
With sleepy cows.
How familiar,
How mundane,
How boring
How real you are,
yet you are fading.
Whether the crows fly off,
and return.
Whether the trees shed,
and bloom.
Whether I leave,
or stay.
I cannot stop
The irrevocable,
The ever faster,
The ever absolute,
Pace of change.
It’s two in the morning,
Already two in the afternoon.
The nightingale has turned into a sparrow.
A sparrow will turn into a nightingale.
On and on,
Until they come for the trees.
And endurer we must
The irrevocable,
The ever faster,
The ever absolute,
Pace of change.
As we grow,
As we stretch,
As we bend,
Until we become the earth.
Did it really happen?
It must have.
But you must let it fade…
The past,
The future,
Into the present.
Listen oh listen!
Weary traveller
Listen oh Listen !
The night is full of life…
As they sleep on,
As they dream on,
As they breathe on,
Outside,
The night is thriving…
The thrill of the thrush
The whisper of the nightjar
The dreams of the nightingale.
And the owls,
asking, always, asking.
Beyond them,
You can hear the cowbells.
You can hear the shivering trees.
You can hear the distant horizon.
How can they sleep
When the forest is calling.
When the night is awakening.
When the silence is a hymn.
Those who sleep do not know…
Time is but a cloud.
Time is but a speck.
Time is but a lull.
And beyond it,
Night stretches from one mountain to the next.
Peace filters through one branch to the next.
Eternity glows through one instant to the next.
Hold my hand,
Hear my voice,
Heed my song.
Let us not despair.
Let us not forget.
Let us not cry.
The pink moon rise over the laced branches.
The amber dawn will rise over the gem studded sky.
The blackbird’s voice will rise over the sighs of the nightingale.
And hope will be rekindled.
Lulling the pace of change.
Into a song.
Into a call.
Into a sigh.
Layla Ali Sultan 