January 22, 2018

For the Golden Sun

poem

For the Golden Sun

by Shahinur Islam


The night is pregnant with darkness

just to smell the fragrance of light.

One day she embraced the sun’s breast

and was happy for that moment.

She was not her when her body

trembled and was hot in petals

of heart— when the sun went away

to the summer solstice

in the stillness of the late afternoon

and in the bashful solitude,

far away from the multitude

she kissed his eyelids at the bend

of the farthest horizon.

Now she is tired of carrying

the embryo of that pleasure;

so the moments of waiting play

as constant ding-dongs in her breast,

in her visage and in her eyes

in the wrapper of the new pains.

Yet in the beckoning of light

beyond this agony again

her heart just becomes pacified.

In the coming dawn she will bear

the new golden sun from her womb

during this burning season.



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