Sheikha A. writes

Song of the Silent Woods

A thousand fireflies flocked 

to rest on the moon like a robe

their sweat black like the fur

of a soil cured

the night smelled of the breath

of a death a mile away

the leaves cried against palms

of a keeling whale

would my stay, having lingered

a millisecond longer,

brought the light of your lotus

to the star-pond closer?

Would my hand have caught

in the mouth of the lark?

The selfish pond reflected 

the stitches of a jade star;

from it a life came born

from scavenges of the past

my face held down in the glow

of silver amassed

but the spirit of a heart never

rested on cold sand

my immortal thirst across raven

mountains spanned -

 Fireflies and Moonlight -- D. Eleinne Basa