The Lighthouse

By Lisa Sultani

Things I once feared have materialized
often these came about subtly
it is only afterwards I realize
many nightmares are alive and well

Why do I share this with you?
It is my way of being a lighthouse
because I am your mother,
my advice cannot be unilateral

We will remain calm
my wet scalp sculpts your dark bones
We can survive anything
and shall become famous for it.

Lifted

The air is empty or the air is filled
with light: then, the air swells in
darkness. You are also entering
the air. That is why people who
love me say you will be in my heart.

Before your dissolution you
could not be contained. As I split
in two also I think I would try containing
you now. Maybe I already I am and
that’s why I read emails so slowly.
I am no longer efficient, which was
one of your wishes. Beside me,
the air rushes in blue fire.

I leave you messages.
Your phone was disconnected (not with
my permission) but still I call and speak.
A therapist suggested writing a letter, as
if one would be enough.

I go on walks, I drive to the bank, I cook
dinner occasionally. Last night it snowed
a great deal. The air became dense with
an uncountable number of unique and
beautiful snowflakes. I know,
each one of them was you.

The doubting heart

We walked for a long time. I walked
across a mountain. The sediment crumbled
in time with my regret. My house was
constructed using unpaid labor. When I
received this information I visited
the masjed. I did not place money in
the basket passed to me by an elderly
neighbor. Later, I may send a check. I
realize I did not tell you who else was
walking with me at the beginning. It is
no longer important: we parted ways
before breaching any contracts.

BIO

Ms. Sultani earned her MA in Library and Information Studies from the University of Wisconsin- Madison. After many travels, she now lives with her family outside Atlanta. Her poems are included in Borderless, Delta Poetry Review, JMWW and The Talon Review, among others.