The earth of this city lifts each step and then step falls,
the pulse soft story untold of the womb where lies my soul.

Cobbles hollow to basin tears, days no longer but still heard,
memories of streets unfold, forgotten maps of where lies my soul.

The sky watches wary child land grieving,
small plots hide such valuable gold - the soil where lies my soul.

Untilled and seeded by what has been and blown,
deep is the cover till wind comes bold,threatening to reveal where lies my soul.

Rock holds soil,soil bears rock,
rain feeds new growth from old, pooling in gullies where lies my soul.

And I, Cassandra, garden with care
for roots run deep
and are not always
seen clear.





goto ghazal #1