Archive for April, 2011

Pachycormis discolor in bloom

Wednesday, April 20th, 2011

Pachypodium sp.

Wednesday, April 20th, 2011

Ask Hafez, Jason Eslamieh

Sunday, April 17th, 2011

 

Last night I visited Hafez in Shiraz

The moon was full but hidden behind the clouds

Waited with his book in my hand

Thumbed the pages all night

He showed up late, drunk and disillusioned

I asked; have you found your lover in paradise?

Laughter broke the silence

A few words danced crossed the pages

As his shadow walked into the clouds, he chanted his favorite song

I met God when I found myself

Disillusioned, needed more

Took the journey up to the heaven

Found heaven empty and the angels dead

So I tell you my friend

When you find yourself, you have found god

Ceraria pygmaea

Friday, April 15th, 2011
Ceraria pygmaea

Ceraria pygmaea

Commiphora campestris

Friday, April 15th, 2011
Commiphora campestris

Commiphora campestris

Bursera microphylla

Friday, April 15th, 2011
Bursera microphylla

Bursera microphylla

Boswellia elongata

Friday, April 15th, 2011
Boswellia elongata

Boswellia elongata

The Pomegranate Stick By Jason Eslamieh

Monday, April 4th, 2011

The Pomegranate Stick

Every Thursday after school
I walk to my grandma’s
Kick every rock laying in the alley on my way
The last pebble stands on its feet and whispers: you are here!
I softly curse and open the door
The sound of screech
Brings back in me the good boy I need to be
Painted smile, obedience and a dash of charm
Hide the war as nothing is wrong
So I sit on the floor holding one knee to my chest
Chanting the Koran with rhythms and
Swaying motions that never end
My thoughts wander to the forbidden land
Where boys question without punishment
Where silence begs the truth in my head
My eyes miss a word or two and my chanting stops
My body still in motion
The long pomegranate stick cuts the air in half
I see my hand pulls back
Just a tad too slow, the pain rushes in my head
Tears fill my eyes
My Pride fights the gravity
The words are blurry running cross the page
The pomegranate stick cuts the air
No tear drops on the page

Grandma is long gone and half a century passed
I learned the Koran, words of hollow and foreign sounds
I still see the bruises on my hands
Dreams of the pomegranate stick haunt me every night but free at last