I hear shots.
It’s the wind, I say.
Then, loud murmurs.
Surely the fountain below my room.
The moon is a bruised fist tonight.
It has obliterated the stars.
I sleepwalk across the tiny island
to you, mi Hombre Sin Miedo,
my stony love.
It’s dark and the padre in the chapel
with his missing arm and chipped toes
is soaked in yellow holy halo.
But you mi amor, my lichen-crusted
beloved, stand against this moon-lit wall,
eyes sewn to the sea. Such sadness
in the curve of your spine, the tilt of your neck.
Does the smell of death still reek
through the crevices of this blood-stained wall?
Do the cries of men in Franco’s blizzard of lead
still echo in the chiseled chambers of these ears?
Here are my eyelashes.
Take them in your lips.
Here is my forehead.
Let it rest on your chin.
Here is my tongue.
Something behind the wall shudders and shakes
the ancient oak. Leaves flutter and rain.
We kiss like ghosts.
Sholeh Wolpé (born 1962) Iran
Source: National Poetry Library
It’s the wind, I say.
Then, loud murmurs.
Surely the fountain below my room.
The moon is a bruised fist tonight.
It has obliterated the stars.
I sleepwalk across the tiny island
to you, mi Hombre Sin Miedo,
my stony love.
It’s dark and the padre in the chapel
with his missing arm and chipped toes
is soaked in yellow holy halo.
But you mi amor, my lichen-crusted
beloved, stand against this moon-lit wall,
eyes sewn to the sea. Such sadness
in the curve of your spine, the tilt of your neck.
Does the smell of death still reek
through the crevices of this blood-stained wall?
Do the cries of men in Franco’s blizzard of lead
still echo in the chiseled chambers of these ears?
Here are my eyelashes.
Take them in your lips.
Here is my forehead.
Let it rest on your chin.
Here is my tongue.
Something behind the wall shudders and shakes
the ancient oak. Leaves flutter and rain.
We kiss like ghosts.
Sholeh Wolpé (born 1962) Iran
Source: National Poetry Library
May you always remember that you are more than your answers –
ReplyDeletethat your doubts are sacred, and your silence full of meaning.
May you see the flower without explaining it,
and use the machine without becoming like it.
May you not be afraid of the screen,
but neither get lost in it –
may it rather be a mirror that points you back to your own depth.
And if technology ever makes you feel superfluous,
then remember: you are not measurable.
You were not made to always be better and faster.
You are present, unique, and irreplaceable –
not because you know everything,
but because you can choose to love,
even when it is illogical.
Then move forward peacefully –
not faster, but deeper.
And let your humanity
remain the greatest technology of all.
Thank you for this. I have tracked it down as being an AI generated piece by DeepSeek AI in response to this question: "From your perspective, with all that is being said about the human-AI relationship, the reservations and fears - do you have a blessing you would like to give us?" https://restorynews.blogspot.com/2026/07/from-restory-conversations-on-journey.html
Delete