The village’s mysterious dream lies upon the mud roofs.
The abandoned birds are lost at great heights, soaring above the clouds.
The blossoms are charred across the town.
Fear lingers heavily in the air.
A young boy whispers to himself, "Where is Nowruz?"
The flowers have faded.
The sky weeps.
A melancholic mother gazes at the wild daisies and murmurs, "Where is Nowruz?"
An elderly man, enveloped in the velvety embrace of yesteryear,
Suddenly, leaps up like a thunderclap, exclaiming, "Where is Nowruz?"
From a distance,
A joyful moment from the quiet fires of history glimmers.
Warmth,
Dewdrops,
Flowers—the open air—bit by bit,
Intertwined with the murmur of forbidden love
Spreads the splendour of the dawn of Nowruz.
Shahla Latifi
March 2025
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Author:
Shahla Latifi (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: March 15th, 2025 10:13
- Comment from author about the poem: Certain regions have faced challenges due to strict regulations that hinder the celebration of Nowruz. This celebration, beloved by Persians, Afghans, and others, signifies the arrival of spring and the beginning of the new year.
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 19
- Users favorite of this poem: Poetic Licence
Offline)
Comments4
Your style sounds deeply inspired .
Thank you; it is my creative way of creating poetry.
A myth in poem is Homeric and it is beautiful to hear. Lovely and well written
Thank you for reading this poem with a broad perspective.
Excellent write Excellent write
Thank you very much.
You're welcome
A beautiful write around traditions and celebrations that are important to people, are being eroded away by other people imposing their will and regulations making it difficult to keep the traditions alive, nicely written
Thank you for your considerate feedback.
You are very welcome
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