last night, to this picture of the mosque of Shusha posted on Facebook. I mean not me, but it got it. An unknown British reader, akousmata wrote it when sharing the picture. And a few hours later she complemented it with another strophe. I do not know whether she read the post itself, but the poem does fit to the story and to the dreamy beauty of the mosque, embracing like a mother’s womb.
|its raining outside.|
theres an enemy in the garden.
inside, silent. just our breaths.
inside our temple, light.
I have bread for you, hidden from the storm
|its still raining outside.|
theres an enemy in the garden still.
inside, you and me. we walk, naked, towards the glass.
the enemy becomes blind, deaf and mute and lost.
inside our temple, I cover with clothes your nakedness, and likewise.
we are sister and brother
The last time it was ten years ago that I got a poem to a picture in the blog, from Wang Wei. It seems a long time, but to inspire a good poem every ten year is not a bad ratio. I am looking forward to the next one.