When you gaze up toward the forms of the white clouds
you find my face ablaze by the sun rays
mother or I am not…!?, wearing the brocade accouterments
as in the bridal night,
with the hair anointed with lavender oil
with the face as a full Moon
in front of Venetian mirror
as in times when guns where shooting
while intermarry killing each other
as for who shall first pass the crossroad
between two cemeteries
one of the Plague and the other of children dead
by Measles

today when I bow down my sight and see my stomach
while earth is dragging by
somehow as I want to sing the song of the Midday
when the Sun vanishes your shadow
and the Bachelors faint
while looking bare feet escape of the Fairy with the inflamed
curly crest
the fragrance of Myrrh and Violet spreading all around
as in times when the Moon was adored as God
while Pagans prayed for the rain to fall
with bells and kelp,
elder leafs and bowing boughs
of the weeping willow folded

tomorrow we shall look straight in the eyes
seeing the lie of each other,
how it leaks as mercury in aged veins
with antimony poisoned while juvenile
and our faces will not blush out of shame
because we folded the darkness in rule
we bind it in a sack woven
in the Loom of the Sun
there where you drink the vine that never makes your drunk
where Love is done as breathtaking
and isn’t nominated as we do
there where the Word is done not uttered instead…

Fahredin Shehu