frail

by Rania Moallem   Sep 1, 2020


don't talk
don't scratch the surface
with dry nails.
Even your stiff words
could make those leaves melt
and those autumns unleash
fruits on their knees.
don't talk at all;
one kind word
could lend life back to dead roots.
I would rise into trees
and flourish like countless seasons
in a small field;
only to suffer death
in the middle of cheer.
Let me give up my ghost
in the rustle of silence.

Unlike your presence
I find this eerie absence
much warmer than your roof;
and this cold
more merciful
than your ever kindest words.

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Latest Comments

  • 1 month ago

    by Skyfire

    Wonderful piece. I found the play between starting some sentences with lowercase letters and others with proper capitalization very interesting. Would love to hear your reasoning if you ever feel like it.

  • 1 month ago

    by Gracy Judith

    Rania it's always a pleasure reading your poems. As usual, this is beautifully penned!

    I'm blown away by the below lines:

    one kind word
    could lend life back to dead roots.
    I would rise into trees
    and flourish like countless seasons
    in a small field;
    only to suffer death
    in the middle of cheer.
    Let me give up my ghost
    in the rustle of silence.

    AND

    ...this cold
    more merciful than
    your ever kindest words.

    This is a win-worthy poem!

    Cheers <3

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