She

Each day, destiny’s fire, consumes
Utterly my entire being
And in the beginning, youthful panic
Drowned this fire and I remained
Half burnt, not alive and not dead
Part man and part pain
But on white beaches in strife with sky-blue waves
She showed me how to be consumed in vast fire pure
Just as Caribbean winds may ruffle my hair
And few sand grains to sting the eyes
And salty air to marinate my lungs
No more than an olive-skin and few frowns
I close my eyes to forget the pain
The winds die and the sands subdued
And her wordless love forever soothed:
“All left at last, is only you my love”
Destiny’s flames burn not to harm
Destiny’s fire chars not to pain
It burns all in me that is not “I”
And the ashes washed away by my sobs
Only to find the Persian that was once again… “I”




Background:  Jackmel, Haiti 1994

© 2004-2002,  Dara O. Shayda