«Motherly»

«Motherly»

Call my name once more—

from within your murmured hush,

so I may rise toward your breath

and find my way back home.

Let your clear, pure melodies

rest upon the threshold of my thoughts,

so I may call you mother again,

and return to you

with the innocence of a child.

Lift the weight of distance,

the ache worn thin by longing;

set me upon the wings of memory,

so I may dwell

in the air of your presence.

I, weary of both worlds—

let me not remain without you.

Where are you, my heaven,

that I may rest once more

beneath your feet?

Call me—

for in the air of you

I become a song.

And even in autumn,

beneath your sheltering shade,

I bloom again.

The fractures of your heart,

the dust upon your robe—

I gathered them as keepsakes,

to inhale them

with a lover’s devotion.

You, the spring cloud

set free to rain—

and when the dew of rainfall touches me,

what can I say of myself?

Call me—

for in the air of you

I become a song.

And even in autumn,

beneath your sheltering shade,

I bloom again.

Shariati‑Moghaddam, Ali