Tuesday poem #450 : Saba Pakdel : lullaby

 

absence is a presence that never is

centuries would not pass

in an hourglass that’s falling

upward down

you did not believe in time

yet sand runs through

timelessness in a bubble

and oceans dry

does it all go back by turning the other end up?

 

what to do about the restlessness of the sun

the rebellious Icarus

falling to the borders of your stripped body

melts

in between your thighs

into a mirage appearing closer

yet absence still is

not standing afar

to outdistance recollections

 

here, is no fear

here is the fear

tall city towers fall apart

rows of pine trees succumb

a crowd wanders inside me

with hideous faces through the fuss

I             am                  pregnant with a disaster

mother lullabies

 

time follows you all the way up

don’t try to move backward

shadows

are not the darkest side of absence

when trees are the presence that never is

 

 

Saba Pakdel was born into a family of artists in Tehran, Iran. Growing up in a home of theatre, literature, and cinema, Saba breathed in the quality air of arts from an early age. She completed her BA and MA in English; attended and coordinated literary workshops and poetry readings; published poems, translations, and essays in Persian journals before leaving her home country to Canada in 2017. Once settled, she continued her studies at SFU (her second master’s degree in English) and gained admission to the Ph.D. program in English at UVic.

the Tuesday poem is curated by rob mclennan