LIKE A PAIR OF OLD SLIPPERS

“Like a pair of old slippers,
I feel comfort and
warmth as I slip into you.
No, that is too crude.

Like the match to the wick,
I ignite when we touch.
My counterpart and
life’s purpose.
Yes, as though I’ve known you my whole life.

Every scar,
every failure
has become an affirmation
of what should be:
You.
Yes, as though I’ve loved you my whole life.”

Kamand Kojouri

COME INTO MY WORLD

“Come into my world.
I will show you the phenomenon that Stendhal experienced.
I will help you feel the cascading arpeggios of Wagner’s overture.
I will dance to Doga’s waltzes with you.
A day spent without appreciating the beauty surrounding us is a waste.
Let me appreciate you.”

Kamand Kojouri

THE LOVE STORY OF CLOUD AND SEA

“Have you heard the love story
of the blue Cloud and Sea?
They were always together as one
until separated by the yellow Sun.
Cloud drifted into the sky slowly.
Sea cried until she became salty.
Cloud grew big enough to block Sun
but nothing could be done.
Sea became enraged and drowned everyone
but still nothing could be done.
Cloud’s heart ached and he became grey,
watching his beloved from far away.
He was too proud and tried to stop his tears
but they fell and fell for what felt like years.
Losing himself drop by drop, he became empty
and was once again reunited with his beloved Sea.”

Kamand Kojouri

LOVERS DREAM OF ONE MORE EMBRACE

“Lovers dream of one more embrace.
One more kiss.
One act of love, no matter how small.
For in loving, lover and beloved
emptied themselves.
Now,
they look for their oasis
like men engulfed in flames.
Even filled to the brim,
they will never satiate.
For they continue to leak, these
cracked vessels.
How else did love seep through?”

Kamand Kojouri

WE ALL WEAR MASKS

“We all wear masks
to veil the truth.
Truth is nakedness.
Truth is fear.
Truth is the gardener
making you sit on
his lap
asking you to
light his cigarette.
Truth is father—
with a limp cigarette on his lips
— telling you to never
use his matches
to light it for him.
Truth is father
yelling:
“It is not
nice for little girls
to do so.”
Truth is a curious girl
wanting to
ignite a match
like a woman.
Truth is the maid watching
from the kitchen,
knowing.
But knowing isn’t truth.
Truth is the maid calling:
“Come. Come.”
Truth is the gardener understanding.
But understanding isn’t truth.
Truth is the maid saying,
“Stay away!”
Truth is a girl thinking
she is in control.
That nothing happened,
nothing bad.
But the truest truth
is a girl knowing,
a girl understanding, that
on that day
someone stole
a little piece of her
truth.”

Kamand Kojouri

FOR ALL THESE STARS

“For all these stars,
nothing is new.
They’ve seen all kinds of wars
and miracles, too.

They know the messengers with their holy books
will smile and wash their hands in blood.
They know the politicians with their good looks
will make the poor eat pies of mud.

They’ve seen the Earth freeze
and then burn with greed.
They’ve seen the trees
and the seas emptied.

Yet, you won’t hear their sneers
when a man arrives
and, having experienced a number of years,
proclaims: ‘I have lived!’

Because nothing is new under these stars:
the lies, the love, the memories and scars,
the ruin, the revolution, the fakes and true,
the families, the friends, none of it is new.
All of it—even the me and you.”

Kamand Kojouri