Lady Ishtar

 

Lady Ishtar 

I endured it twice.

In a one breif year

I felt it— 

What's a heavy feel 

That's hard to bear!

My thoughts as cloudy as  

A mist-covered forest.

My essence, a solitary 

Pomegranate fruit— 

Lively and youthful,

Blossoms within a shadowy

soul. 

Once, one beheld 

Its vibrant charm,

Reached out to caress

With fervor tried

And fell. 

Yet, I conceal it secrecy

From prying eyes, still

In a box, 

Sealed and chained—

To shield it from

Pain and disdain.

But I,

The lady Ishtar, 

Uprooted and served it 

On a plate of 

Gold to someone. 

I unveiled it tenderly for—

To savor the delight 

Of my taste,

But what's a fate

That's fade! 

The plate returned

Unchanged, yet the seeds glimmer rubies

Were abundant and strewn 

And I am on my journey 

To gather them anew 

Return them to their peel,

And with my pains,

I will stitch it through— 

Stitches it, 

With the thread of my own wounds

Stitches it with the story of my own bruises. 

But no worries, 

Now it lays in its residence

Vibrant with wounds 

And I—

I have stitched it firmly well.

I have stitched it so it feels peacefully still.

I have stitched it so it feels perfectly swell. 

Baran R.A