Amir, Prince Of Treetops, Now Sleeps In His Bright Yellow Room
perhaps you are
a bee sleeping in
the heart of a flower
the stone of your
head softening
sweetly upon a pillow
your little hands
opening into bestowal
while you sleep
the sun ripens
plums into honey
upon the little
feet of the bee
of Mashhad**
Little bee
you awaken
a child screaming
'injustice'
you carry his
cry to parks
to courts
authorities have
declared war on
yellow and pillows
all plums are
suspect
Innocence is
threatened with
exile yet still
in a shrub beneath
the golden window of
the girl you must
love in secret
you smile and
recite Hafez
and the walls of
state and of the
local god are
falling finally
down truly one
as rubble
still the powers
that be refuse to
see blood and dust
though the lemon
trees at Ferdosi's
tomb are opening
into blossoms
proclaiming a
kingdom of justice
through bitter tears
little bee now
sweeps the little
room of its heart
your heart
of hope
and fear
the muezzin calls
fly away all to each
his dutiful prayers
bee too flies
honeys the feet
of those who would
kneel to be closer
to the Friend
whose Voice is
sweet in the halls
the streets the
friends of the
Friend of Mashhad
they do not know
that the bee up
from flower-heart
is busy keeping
the peace
flower
by
flower
they do not know
that the child
sleeps whose hands
are gentle bestowals
always counting
slowly
one two three
at the top of
his tree
**Mashhad is the second largest city in Iran and one of the holiest cities in the Shia Muslim world. It is also the only major Iranian city with an Arabic name.
Mashhad is also known as the city of Ferdowsi, the Iranian poet of Shahnameh, which is considered to be the national epic of Iran.
poem by Warren Falcon
Added by Poetry Lover
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