Published January 15th, 2024
by Mekyle Ali Qadir
Time will let our perceptions starve us,
Like poor children, and bite our own tails,
Unless we stand inside that miniscule crevice –
Between memory and prophecy, eyes fixed within.
The wild breaths you taste there remain
Infinite
Come, love! To recover our broken, sweaty slumbers,
To feast on sunsets and decipher infrared passions –
I am a moment in your expanding horizon, so
Come to me and bring your broken fractals
And I'll show you how to multiply them into
Constellations
With your terribly fervent face to the Sun,
Fixed like mildew to Spring's premature colours,
There's no space to bring you another star. So let it lie
Crushed within the contracting mass of your conscience –
Its density describes your life better than I ever
Could
What need do you have for lustful incantations,
When death is forever between us on oblique orbits,
An inch away from dreams and a mile from ambitions?
When rosebuds are starting to rear their heavenly heads,
Could I then truly rely on meek notions of normal?
Never
Spend some time under my Guru's tent
So you can learn the right way to die.
And when you're done, tell me if you're still afraid.
I'll remind you to glance back at those constellations –
Listen to their sublime lullabies and learn what it is to
Be
But those rosy mornings of interstellar discourse,
Those hot flashes of photoreceptive fever,
Promises of reform and raw meditative rambling –
All of it goes away with you when you turn
Your back on me to worship your god of
Normal.
About the Poet
Mekyle Ali Qadir resides in Vanier, Ontario, Canada.
Read the poet's biography on Mekyle Ali Qadir's Artist Page.
This poem is included in Comet #1, published in the Wax Poetry and Art Library.
Previously published in Canada Poetry Magazine:
Lake Wisdom
by Nicole Jessome
Canada Poetry Magazine is part of the Wax Poetry and Art Network.
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- Visit the Wax Poetry and Art Library.
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