Shadi Eskandani

metamorphic 1. four walls a window stained glass glimmers daylight hints swinging green in the distance. inside this dwelling   wild rue rust   rot and she – a bonfire sanctified bare skin glistening gasoline setting ablaze ancient rugs sacred texts   lapsed syntax past disgrace(d) as she dances with gold bangles and her ghosts burning it all…

sea goddess pecan thighs greet high tide salt-soaked kisses glisten drips of magic in a ripe moon’s light a divine reunion for this thirsty soul decades on the shore ravenous for your return. o mother of water i come to you every inch of me sequined with sea flowers   shells   sand singing my name so…

Artist-As-Healer “Wounded healers access their gifts when they realize that their wound is itself the source of divine creativity, as well as the portal through which the highest, most individualized form of this creativity can manifest. The archetype of the wounded healer is intimately related to the archetypal figure of the artist, as both are…

Absence Kneeling beneath this tree you confess her silence will swallow you whole. your spirit sister start light. she, who clawed herself crimson like the crowned fruit in your hand. her pretty mouth, a gaping abyss. You score the pomegranate’s skin with your nails, and tell me in a world of shadows she danced in…

Blood Moon The full moon shines her light today until she is eclipsed for one hour and 23 minutes. ONE HOUR AND 23 MINUTES. The longest eclipse of this century. Eclipses allow for deep inner reflection regarding some uncomfortable things, including the roots of our fears. From this we gain wisdom to do right by…

fleeting tremendous pain a throbbing in her throat tightened airway traps everything essential words    sense of self. under a blood moon she grips her neck hands clutching delicate skin a reminder that all is not lost. what remains when there is nothing? she looks to the east where shadows dance on concrete and revels in…

Journey to the Sun Thirteen months ago, my life transformed. I gave birth to my child. And he’s been illuminating my world ever since. Becoming a mother has brought me closer to the core of who I really am. I am not the same person, yet, never been more myself. My concept of time has…

My translation of a poem by Iranian poet, Forough Farrokhzad. *** In Darkness Amidst darkness I called for you; in silence, a breeze swayed curtains. In a dismal sky a star was burning, a star was leaving, a star was dying. I called for you, my existence a chalice of milk held between my hands.…

Rebirth (Solstice Musings) A body traveling along the line of time impregnates time’s barren cord, and returns from the mirror’s feast intimate with its own image. This is how one dies, and another remains. No seeker will ever find pearls from a stream that pours into a ditch. – Forough Farrokhzad (Reborn)   The magic that is…

at dawn (how we endure) cold laminate coarse feet shift weight minutes after fajr she scrubs dishes stares at shadows outside the kitchen window. her ancient hips hug the sink hold the hush of history before ibrahim’s word before yazatas and aatash   before exile separation   silence the surrender of water. rinsing one dish after another…