Posts Tagged ‘daughter’

“tiny home”

we were born of the antique and ancient forms

our stories woven from the fabric of our dyed and twisted yarns

like the wreckage of so many voyages lost and long

those travelers floating over poles

our souls on the battlefields mourned

we are assembled from the glass of mirrors that have passed

from the love of our mothers and our fathers dead and gone

in the comfort of our rituals we are dressed in softly stolen silks

and we think upon those travelers

those many bridges they have crossed

we wonder how their flags are planted

where the mountains meet the sky

and now we live as strangers

our families just so splintered

we are driven and we are torn

the swollen weight of our possessions

the magnificent size of our earthly homes

but what we need is tiny

it fits inside our hearts

a formation of the soul

it cannot be found in store fronts

or in those luminous shopping malls

it lives just near the fire

and in your child’s warm embrace

sometimes driving madly

but always in the end

our only true possession

perhaps a wife or son or daughter

it may just be a lover or a dream that never ends

and perhaps…

even just a friend

-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 12/10/14

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“for lauren”

in the falling season
trees scatter their lost children about the ground
they form road-side memorials that dress the streets
there final days spent in shades of blood and turmeric
as winter takes its grip on land and shore
they frost and crumble like morning scones at your bedside
the seasons flow on like some western surveyor
and we feel the chill of northern lights upon us
together we sip pinot in the evening glow of muted lamps
a bundle of threadbare blankets stashed safely in the wardrobe
tales of old are spun like so much yarn on your grandmother’s lap
and together we come to part the sorrows
grey days seem a continuum
darkness falls early and slow slumber awaits
but we welcome her
our spring darling beauty
dressed in alpine meadow colors
and we venture to the sea for relief
the salt spray and southern breezes make us whole again
around the table gathering conversation grows
and leaves are born again to mothering oaks
we raise our glasses high
and scrape the splinters from our fresh broken chop sticks
this evening will bring dinner and talk of travels
summer awaits in all her glory
for we are her progeny
and she
our savior

-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 1/26/12

“for katie”

there is a picture on the wall
and the beauty it contains dangles like a curl
it flows through the room like wine from a forgotten cask
invoking ageless emotions only found in the eyes of a lonesome puppy
years have come and years have gone since the day it took shape
like a pure sonnet or a dancer on stage we never tire of it
i have seen this before
on distant walls
in distant homes
that span the length and breadth of our country
a land full of children and toys
a land of letters and words
they connect the sorrow and the joy of hearts separated
the indestructible bonds that shine like white teeth in the afternoon sun
we are all here now
as we shall always be
we have stitched an everlasting tapestry of friends
and we frame them like captured butterflies in a dusty museum hall
but as always we come together for those certain occasions
creating new visions of our future
dancing to the music of laughter
and feasting on the essence of togetherness
always remember these days
spent on couches and spinning cars
these are the days to remember
and they will never die

-Jason Cyrus Akhtarekhavari 1/25/12

“for linda”

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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