Letter composed on the corner of 26th Street

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I have seen white blossoms
fall into the lake
regardless of political storm 
that surrounds it,
witnessed men build dreams
conscious 
of suspicion that destroys it.
This is not anywhere else 
but here
in our heart that we find conviction,
I won’t tell you 
because
you already know how to do it.

And when the night darkens, 
both moon and lovers go silent 
knowing
that art of pleasing won’t always solve
everything,
I won’t disclose
sheets soiled with regret
a water jug,
a magazine
and roses 
stripped of colour
in a hotel room
where opinions are muffled under covers.

This, I am writing to a friend
who on several occasions is caught by surprise,
we can not go back and start
from the beginning,

nor can we hope to undo grief
and change the person we were yesterday,
I won’t tell you how to feel
offer age old cures that only half believe
I won’t tell you
how to let go of buried thoughts
because
even the wind echoes what foolish sing
I won’t tell you how to go on
because
you are already doing a beautiful job of it.

 

Photo credits: Pinterest

Posted for Midweek Motif @ Poets United

 

28 thoughts on “Letter composed on the corner of 26th Street

  1. Susan says:

    WOW! SUCH LOVE! Remembering that the white blossoms fall anyway, hearing this voice.of memory and faith, is beautiful.. And I thank you for you comment on my poem♥️

  2. Thotpurge says:

    both moon and lovers go silent
    knowing
    that art of pleasing won’t always solve
    everything… very beautiful Sanaa… a great write!

  3. Kerry says:

    What a most brilliant poem! An instant favourite for me, Sanaa. I love the voice of the poem, not to mention your phrasing and line breaks, which hold the reader in suspense until the end. The opening lines are stellar. What a hook!

  4. Kim M. Russell says:

    A stunning poem, Sanaa! I love the way you set the scene with white blossoms falling into a lake and the direct address in ‘I won’t tell you because you already know how to do it’ – as if you are writing the letter to me. I especially love the way you capture a whole story in the lines:
    ‘I won’t disclose sheets soiled with regret
    a water jug,
    a magazine
    and roses stripped of colour
    in a hotel room
    where opinions are muffled under covers’.

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