To my Fidel

The silence of our sorrow as we say our goodbye,
Your cheeks damp while my eyes dry.

Tomorrow, you are gone forever,

No longer the warmth of this shivering weather.

I am sorry that I can only express this through words on a screen,

But I loved you even though aware of this inevitable ending.

Even with heartache I still do not regret,

For the things you have taught me, I am forever in your debt.

The smudges on your letter,

I know their origin.

The beauty of your words,

To me, this was foreign.

As strange as our exotic roots,

And regrettably, our incompatible pursuits.

Yet, love was as strong as the walls broken down,

I feared that if I let you in, I would drown.

But instead, on my head, you placed a golden crown.

As I stood tall and proud in my royal gown.

Our endless laughs in the times we would spend,
I am happy that I will always call you a friend.
Even with the feeling that now a piece of me is missing,
This short but sweet romance, I will spend the winter reminiscing.

Never forget our promises or our goals,

They are what forecast the reunion of our souls.

Though we fear the possibility that this love may die,

I will promise you, this is not our last goodbye.

Keshvare Aziz

I miss my home.
Not the one I sit in now, but my real home.
The one I have never seen, the one that costs so many a sacrifice.
The sacrifice of altering their values in the eyes of its society,
But in their own eyes, it is worth growing up in their old neighbourhood,
Where their remnants of childhood replay as memories:
Once upon a time they sat on their father's lap as they watched the red-hatted puppet on TV,
They spent their summer days running along the street canals with cousins in a game of tag,
After school they emptied their backpacks to unwrap the sweet candies they bought at the store.

As they grew up, their rebellion placed them in the basements of their friends' homes,
The house music and rap playing in the background.
Flirting and playing love games with one another,
Knowing that this was the only place they could pretend to be somewhere else.
First love blossomed under the cherry tree that blooms white in the spring,
The potential threat of being caught thrilled them, their attraction growing stronger towards each other.

Photographs brought here from my real home,
I am barely in any of them.
"Oh you weren't born yet," they say as they turn to each other,
They begin reminiscing with dreamy smiles on their faces,
My jealousy grows as I hear of their great childhood,
Mine was only mediocre as it lacked a sense of heritage.
The sense of growing up surrounded by family,
Nosy to know what you're up to,
But also the ones who threw picnics on Fridays in the park,
Excessive food, laughter, and happiness,
For a moment, oblivious to the reality surrounding them.

I remember as a child I would scream at my mother with fresh tears on my face,
Demanding to move back to my beloved home,
But deep inside, I always felt the gratitude of avoiding the harshness I could have faced,
The feeling of being trapped in the own familiarity of friends and family,
Not being able to tell who was looking at you and who was watching you.

I am glad I did not grow up with a second personality,
The slyness that develops in order to protect myself and my family,
Here, I never hesitate to put my arm around my best friend,
Or second guess the words out of my mouth,
Here, I am safer than I would be in my real home.

Yet, I miss what I have not laid my eyes upon.
I miss what I've heard about, or seen in stories, pictures and movies.
Proud of its rich history and elegance.
Through all of its obstacles, it stands strong but at the same time remains delicate.
The hole in my heart is growing, the voidance yearning for a fill.
I didn't know I could feel homesick for a place I know nothing about.
My beautiful home that I have never seen,
My beautiful home that has never seen me.

I miss my home.

H.

It was only for one night,
But I still remember his hands intertwined with mine.
He pulled me towards him while he reached for the light.

Earlier, I was loud and bold,
Smiling and laughing with those around me, turning on my charm and flirting around,
But when he said something to me, I turned into the shy introvert I sometimes am.
I tried to be nonchalant, my guard up,
Building the wall around me that nobody could break down,
But I didn't have a clue as to what I would be feeling later on in the night.

I giggled as he embraced me again,
With every single touch, my shyness resided a little more.
He looked at me and said, "You're beautiful",
but if he only knew the beauty that grew inside me when I looked at him.
The butterflies danced inside me, as if they fluttered to be released.
I smiled at him, flattered, and kissed him on the cheek.

My skin felt alive, sensations all over my body tingling with excitement,
I have never felt such a spark, not even with the one before him.
We exchanged secrets and promised to always remember,
It made me feel closer to him until the next time.
I have not stopped missing him, but he has not stopped feeding his pride.

What he does not realize is that I have pride too,
And in this game I am determined to win.
We will cross paths again, I'm sure of it.
When the time comes, I will be angry, and I will challenge him.
Once again showing my nonchalance, while my insides beg him to fight.
Until that day, I will long for him.
Nobody can compare to him.
He cast a spell on me in just one night.

Until next time.

Haven

The faint smell of fresh green leaves slowly becomes my reality,
As the sound of the waterfall carries on to confirm my mortality.
The exotic birds sing soprano notes with elegance and grace,
I slowly open my eyes and observe the surrounding unearthly place.
The divinity of my location resembles that of a sort of Heaven,
Yet the awareness of my pumping heart admits the knowledge that this cannot be certain.

The serenity and carefree atmosphere is incomparable to that of a high from ecstasy,
Any sorrows and misfortune are replaced with the faith of a peaceful eternity.
This is a place where gloom and despair are not granted access,
Only laughter echoes through the canopy, with no trace of distress.
I look around to the tropical ingredients of this glorious scene,
The image is ingrained in my mind, it will never be unseen.

I suddenly disappear from the fantasy as the sunlight hits my eyes,
I slowly open them only to feel a pang of surprise.
Although I am encouraged to believe that what I witnessed was real,
Maybe the surroundings were a part of my imagination, but the blissful experience was not surreal.
The enchantment was the result of my newly found inspiration to live an animated life,
Knowing that someday what I achieve will take me back to the place free of internal strife.

Anchor Chains

**Note: I have absolutely no idea what motivated me to write this poem, but for some reason I just felt the need to begin writing it and could not stop. It is probably one of the darkest ones that I have written, but nonetheless, it was very fun to write.

How do I fill the void that is left entrenched in its darkness,
Left inside my once rich heart before this blindness?
Why is it that my prosperity is soon followed with the deepening core,
Of the intense sorrow that lacks the knowledge of what I grieve for?

Let go of me, for I can no longer resist,
As it constrains me deeper into its eternal, foreboding mist.
"I want to be free!" I scream within myself, only it never breaks sound,
The surrounding crowds only witness a smile, as I am only internally bound.

Bound by the unknown, there is no trace of curiosity in me,
To discover this calamity that threatens to leave me with cruelty.
This suffering must end, I must remember who I used to be,
The only one who holds the key to the chains is the honourable side of me.

It's over

The illuminated path I started on begins to dim,
The shadow that follows behind alters the beautiful scenery to grim,
Because that shadow threatens my happiness; that shadow resembles him.


The ease now turns to anger,
The hole in my heart gets bigger,
Because that anger threatens my peace; that anger becomes my captor.


An entity visits my path and lights itself,
Relieving my disturbed conscious like heavy books taken off a shelf,
Because that entity manifests itself as my saviour; that entity is my present self.

Freedom.

The wing of a bird is a simple yet complex affair,
Those trusted know it should be preserved and handled with care,
It stretches far and high to prove its might,
But who would have known a bullet would break its flight?

The leader's hands on the hips of the dancer guides her moves,
Nobody but her realizes that he is leading her in a way she disproves,
The elegant dancer should be following with a smile,
But who would have known his hands force her direction into a perilous style?

The graceful arms of the dancer resemble the fragile wing of the bird,
Both controlled and insecure, both vulnerable and fractured.
The will to escape transforms the broken wing into one that is majestic,
And the competence of the dazed dancer leaves her no longer heartsick.
Their gallantry allows them to become independent and privileged,
As their new-found liberty will grant them protection and always be kept salvaged.

Flicker

Birds sing as the smell of after-rain engrosses my room,
The occasional sounds of distant cars fill me with gloom.
Yet, when I think of you, my world morphs into silence,
My reality confuses itself with a feeling of voidance.

Together, we create envy for those who have not yet been touched by love,
Others say we are something we need to be proud of.
As I sit and ponder about the illuminating light that makes itself known in my dark room,
I cannot help but notice its constant flicker that reinforces its doom.

Why do I remain still and feed it my attention,
As though I am to blame for its arrogant creation?
For the first time, I move towards the switch of the light,
A single tear falls down my cheek as I deliver its death into the night.

Rose Petals to Brown Leaves

The crimson leaves of last season have crumbled and follow the gust,
Shriveled from time and identical to remnants of dust.
In the wind their residue travels to places we will never know,
But their purpose is to secure room for new flowers to blossom and grow.

I stand as an obstacle for the leaves to reach their destination,
Because I stand where their buds first bloom in their creation.
We must let go of our fears and allow the floret to thrive,
If we lose faith, it will simply remain a dull chive.

Trying to fix something before it is broken may appear to be original and clever,
But like an over-watered flower, it will only descend in its damage forever.
I step away as the obstacle and instead give the seed my blessing,
There is not a single thing to do but to allow its valuable journey through its destined path, freeing me from obsessing.