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I
Maeve Melia Jul 2013
I
I live on the edge of a sleepy soul
a moist rose
and an infinite lilac sky
beneath my chin

— M. Melia, from *The Unravelling Travelogue.
II
Maeve Melia Jul 2013
II
I saw a poet embracing the thorns of a rose
I saw a dreamer piercing the eyes of the night sky
I saw the cold body of fear in their eyes
III
Maeve Melia Jul 2013
III
you wrote me light
and I fathomed dawn
in your moonlight-tainted quill
IV
Maeve Melia Jul 2013
IV
the sound of moonlight’s footsteps
hangs my heart
on the edge of the morning thrill
Maeve Melia Jul 2013
bring two cups of tea
to the eye of the storm
and let us drink them
under the cold barrage of voices

let us write a book on the soil
with a preface written by gods
and a dandelion index as boundless as time

let us write about an earth
in which tree leaves are sacred
its rain is the verdict of fluttering
and its children are the blue pellucid of life
and its people prostrate to the skies

let us speak of an earth
on which tulips don't grow*
swallows stay and plant dandelions

let us write a book
in the diameter of dreams
in the length of smile and width of tears
with the weight of seedlings
by the ink
dripping from the lips of spring

— M. Melia
*this poem was written in Persian first. in Persian, tulips are the symbol of people who've lost their lives in wars.
V
Maeve Melia Jul 2013
V
I count the inwoven stars
maybe I could find your smile
in the bright tangles of night

— The End —