THE MOON 

On the onset of winter 

In the dark night of wither 

I saw the moon 

A smirk on her face 

‘Why do you smile so soon?’

I asked with a grimace 

‘Why is there a stain on your forehead?’

‘I smile behind my mask of grief ‘she said 

‘The blot on my forehead is to remind us that when we wound

A kindred human being, we bear a blemish on our face.’

Illustration/Picture/Internet 

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AUTUMN

The fall comes in my garden as a sorceress

The sky covering the morning sun with a thick dimness

Broom sweeps, leaves and flowers fly off in a maelstrom

 Cold downpours freeze the subterranean thunderstorm

Birds flee up in the skies with a scream

Trout hide under the stones of the stream

I look full of hope, my love, at the radiance in the horizon

No matter the rain, the cold, the melancholy of the autumn season

Whatever the absence, the long days of waiting, the starless nights

Whatever the tears, the suffering and the frights

I wait, mad lover that I am, for your return in spring

Linger for the promised kisses, the delirious frolics in the field   

I dream of the elating scent of the rose on your tanned skin

I dream of poppies crushing on your mouth my stolen longing

Anita Bacha

Illustration/Photography Anita Bacha

 

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