Offering

The wrinkles at the corner of my eyes
can tell many stories.
I am old you see, very old,
older than the faded carpet I sit on.
My eyes are deep.
They contain the secrets of alchemists
and infinite horizons of dazzling colours.
Salaam
I come in peace, always in peace.
I am wrapped in the colours of the desert
and offer a cup of saffron tea
to the ones who visit me.
When it touches their lips,
it turns into wine.
I speak the universal language of the reed,
the one of a thousand smiles.
And I like to wrap each smile
very carefully in words of poetry.
I then offer them to the ones
who have embraced roses.
I know the thorns penetrated their skin,
I have my own scars.
Please accept my offering.

Kenza.


Music: Ney by Ostad Hassan Kasaie استاد حسن کسایی (Iran, 1928-2012).

A book of poetry

To read a few lines each day like a cat lapping milk, nourishing the soul.

Words of the ancients or the new, all wise poets bequeathing us with words like a soothing pearl necklace.

But the world threw a spear at slowness. Nowadays, few read the words of the wise.

Maybe this year, instead of giving trinkets, give a book of poetry. Whether it is read or used as a door stop, it does not matter; the very presence of the book will shine bright in the house of your friend.

Kenza.

Inspiration: slowness and reading poetry.