25
Jan
“for linda”
Posted January 25, 2012 by jasonstaroftheeast in Uncategorized. Tagged: air, alone, angel, angels, author, bird, birds, birth, blaze, blazing, blog, blogger, blogging, born, brother, circle, circles, circular, cloud, clouds, cold, crazy, creation, cry, crying, dad, dance, dancing, dark, darkness, daughter, day, desert, deserts, distance, distant, dreams, dust, edge, eternity, evening, father, flew, flight, flown, flying, force, forest, garden, gardens, green, guilt, happiness, happy, hard, heart, ice, innocence, innocent, inside, iron, journey, journeying, kiss, kissing, light, lonely, loss, lost, love, lovers, loving, luscious, memories, memory, mist, misty, mom, moon, morning, mother, mountain, mountains, night, ocean, oceans, one, outside, planets, poem, poems, poet, poetry, poets, pray, prayer, praying, promise, promises, rain, raining, rains, remember, remembering, remembrance, rhythm, rhythms, river, rivers, sad, sadness, sand, sands, sea, seas, shadows, sharp, shine, silence, silent, singing, sister, skies, sky, smile, smiles, smiling, soft, son, song, soul, soulmate, souls, space, star, stars, storm, storming, storms, streams, sun, surprise, surprises, surprising, sweet, sweetness, swift, tear, tears, think, thinking, though, thought, thoughts, torrent, touch, travel, traveling, tremble, trembling, universal, universe, warm, water, wild, wilderness, wind, wonder, wondering, wonders, words, wordsmith, write, writing, yearning, young, youth. 1 Comment
memories flow like a swift torrent of water
chasing some unspoken promise
with the speed of a subterranean river
and the power of a million spinning prayer wheels
they radiate the sound of love across the heart-born expanse
they twist like baby dancers in the far recesses of your soul
and then…
you remember
father was the maker of memories
he taught you all the things that the maiden forbid
he was the iron cross when the storms came
and the giver of sweet kisses when all things felt wrong
now you rest and remember
life as it were
you sit by the leaf, by the axe, by the pile
warmed by the air of the wood by the fire
and father is still there…
somewhere?
he celebrates his creation for all eternity
he thinks of you…
-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 1/25/12
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Posted by Linda Simms on January 27, 2012 at 2:40 pm
My soul rejoices at the sound of your prose, Jason. It’s perfect! Thanks.