Nicole Callräm is a diplomat and poet. All she writes describes her personal point of view and in no way represents the official position of her dear government (especially on matters of love and life). Currently stationed in Shanghai, she finds this land of beauty and history to be endlessly inspirational. Her muses are dreams…and the flowering streets of this city.
willow
endless stretching toward water
hair moving in the breeze
disarming me
undressing the wind
and my stunned soul
music of jewels
are the staccato of rain on soil
leaf upon jade leaf
I love you
your vulnerability
this canal is fish scales in sunlight
and you
you gesture
after its movement
as though to stop the stream’s departure
as though you had something to lose
weeping
separation
single green soul
I too
know how to move
at the mercy
of heartache’s cruel flow
~
how to understand the world
copper leafed
fingers
rock a dirt cradle
……………..thick with blue flowers
………until buttercup pistils nap in sun.
I am shadow
………moss on stone
how am I to understand this world?
each tree is meditating
………petals—
………errant thoughts
………fluttering
………across pure
………blue consciousness
vines whisper
oh, sweet rot and earth
………how am I to understand this world?
green is inadequate
it’s like saying freckle
to describe the one thousand ways
light touches
your body
if there is a god
………may I leave life
………as this forest
as
………………shards of seafoam
………………dancing through honey
~
kikuzakura
the flowering tree in my garden is sublime
every flushed bough
one thousand pinched cheeks
countless kissed lips
……..sensual pink goddess
I wonder how it feels to be impeccable–
I’ve asked so many times
sitting in her perfumed
air
the only answer:
…………leaves in wind
at sunset by my bedroom window
130 impossible petals pressed against glass
I am wishing that life were this simple
that I knew when to bud and when to blossom
that I knew when I was at my peak
and everything I had to offer were self-evident
no one questions the intentions of a Sakura blossom in spring
(except for me)
I wonder what she feels tonight
each perfect
rose cup
overflowing
with liquid moonlight
does she ask what this all means?
does she see me watching her?
do her leaves hurt and sap rush when I read her this love poem?
when I sleep with her flowers scattered through my hair
does she dream of me?