poems of sorrow

A million words won’t bring you back,
I know because I tried.
Neither would a million tears,
I know because I cried.

I thought that I could save you

I tricked myself into thinking you could be fixed

I want nothing more for my words to heal your soul oh, that is still the darkest shade of grey

I wanted my hours I put in to be worthwhile, but you’re the poster child for juvenile angst and untamable rage

I wish my aching hands could hold you tight enough to make you whole again, to mold you into the boy you long to be

Maybe, my eyes could see past the lies but I was caught in your treacherous disguise

I begged

I wished

I screamed

I cried

I loved and I died

I tried to bring you back from the night

Sometimes love isn’t enough to save a life

- Autumn Wiley (via broken-transparent-lover)

And then make love

And then make love.
No sex, only love.
And with this I mean slow kisses on the mouth,
on the neck, on the belly, on the back,
biting lips,  interwining hands,
and eyes inside each other’s eyes.
I mean hugs so tight
to become one,
embedded bodies and souls in collision,
caresses on the scratches , taking off clothes together with fears,
kisses on weakness,
on the marks of a life that was a little wrong till that moment.
I mean fingers on the bodies, creating constellations,
inhaling scents, hearts that beat together,
breaths that go on the same rhythm,
and then smiles,
sincere smiles after a while they weren’t anymore.
So, make love and don’t be ashamed,
because love is art and you the masterpieces.

-Alda Merini

Translation by Frances Gray Wilde

Alda Merini was an Italian poet who had her life marked by tragedies and sorrow. She found through poetry her healing and salvation. She’s one of my favorite poets. Today I stumbled upon this poem of hers I didn’t know. I found a lot of me in it and I couldn’t help sharing. 

زني را مي شناسم من
که شعرش بوي غم دارد
ولي مي خندد و گويد
که دنيا پيچ و خم دارد
I know a woman
whose poems smell of sorrow 
Yet she smiles and says: 
Life has its ups and downs…
—  فریبا شش بلوکی

Tears pour down when our souls bleed.
Tears, it’s where all relations lead.
Tears maybe the result of a mistake
Or the conclusion to a heartbreak.

Tears are your companion on a lonely night.
Tears are the aftermath of a foolish fight.
Not only is it accompanied with sorrowful cries
But even your happiest moments can wet your eyes.

—  Have you ever wondered why tears are salty?
Why it starts pouring when life gets faulty😭
If life gets bland, let it add taste
Worrying about bruises don’t you quit the race!
Let it add colors; red or blue😂
Let it teach you a thing or two.
- @frncs-the-poet

do not put your sorrow in words, my dear, the storms shall renew their vows—ah, let us stay within each other; moonlit trees, these fingers stain your glorious, elysian field skin, turmeric and india ink; when i feel you, everything turns moist, there is no name, only silence, enigma, thunder, inferno, my ashes; i write on tombs, that you flow through me, lie beside the dead, to taste your salt and copper, come, clasp me, all your tears are on the tips of ten thousand grasses, let your bareness—swallow me.

Last spring

I imagined an April
with love-rattled trees
and the heat catching hard in your throat

I imagined an April
with sky kissed raw
and your eyes rising wild to hold it

I imagined an April
with wish-softened grass
and the shadows aching on your shoulders

I imagined an April
with sun-opened skin
and a light stretching out in our hands

I imagined our April
without any endings.
Once, I imagined an April.

“In life, one day is for you and the other is against you.” -Imam Ali (a)

If these days have been against you, find your heart. Find what state it is in. Find what saddens your heart and what brings it joy. Know the fuel of your happiness and sorrow. For if your happiness is reliant on something that is temporary, sadness will soon follow. But if it is reliant on something permanent, sorrow will be a gift and not a burden. I knew a woman, who placed her trust in God and never knew of anything else. She had patience through struggle, she had wealth in poverty, she had courage when others deemed to be afraid. This woman, who surrendered herself to her Lord in times of ease and hardship, witnessed the murder of her brothers, her family, and yet still uttered the words, “O’ Lord, take until you are satisfied.” And yes, let us be like her. For when sorrow does honor us with its presence, we too can tell Allah (swt), “take until you are satisfied.” Surely sorrow may ridicule our joy, but there are more lessons to be learned in times of loss than gain. Because what we have lost, was never ours to attain.

السلام عليك يا زينب الكبرى

consume the rest

Boats at rest amid old sea gods who sleep.

I have walked among them down the jetties

watching how their chains vanish in the deep,

how each holds the hint of possibilities;

call that escape. The sky salmons dark pink.

How does one wake a god in this twilight?

Tonight I’ll stand and stare. I’ll sit and drink

until I’m drunk for the waves and moonlight

and the boat that I will never find. I knock

my glass to the floor; get told to go home.

There is no home; just standing in shadows

watching dark consume water, jetty, dock.

I can read the wind, the tide, the sea foam

and they all say: sorrows, sorrows, sorrows.