I got a poem

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.

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