The sun and moon on foot
Squeeze, enchant, will comply
Fools rush in
To make grade put
While piloting suffering dry.
She rode the rooster like no other
Free but focused care
She cried, she plucked, she began to smother
Basting her mind,
Only to find,
Her legs were lighter than air.
Content, maybe so,
White ideas of flight grow so slow.
Her dreams, her sacraments, call at night
Question being spirit led
How is it that you breathe like unleavened bread?
2004 Copyright. All Rights Reserved to Mariam Muradian
This is a poem from my recently published book,
“God Loves A Riddle: A Small Collection of Poems.”
All confusing and affirming.
These poems were written during the most base need survival years in
Boulder, Colorado; while facing 20 year old PTSD flashbacks of the murder of my infant son never before surfaced.
It seems I was piecing my fragmented life together almost as quickly as the puzzle pieces were being thrown at me! Frightenly abstract.