Mazandaran

Mazandaran

Our dreams are in the mountain tops, where the blue sky,
Pure, preserves them; canopies our minds with longing.
Here, on the stone path, hallowed by history, holy,
The shepherdess still walks in Mazandaran, by
This pool where the Parthians once clamoured, clashing
Against the rank barbarians of Rome. I see

Them still, in her slow walk, fading like a memory
Towards the ancience of another world. The heat
Shimmers. The mind, in its infancy, is shaken
By the touch of infinite things. Here is the story,
Here, by this wall, this tree. A fading step, the beat
Of heart, the thud of blood, the bruised and the broken.

We learn brutalities, learn to fear, we forget¦¦
The sun setting on the mountain, the silent breath.
The people have learned patience; they wait, like this girl
Waits by her well, wondering when. Not yet, not yet.
After all the wars, and the dying, what is left?
Just the still heart unheeded, beating for the world.