Cliff tops

by Sheikha A.

There are dreams in feet
only just fit into shoes to walk;

dragons with open beaks
circumambulate the ruby crystal

skies, his innocent eyes have seen
deeper shades of rivers flow out

of islands, his mouth has eaten
splinters of a wall that weeps
tearless screams;

they brought dreams
of peaceful colours,

the same colour of the cloth
placed over his father – his mother
called the fabric of heaven;

they brought food –

shelter to the naked space
of fields still ingesting drought
in their hubris mouths;

they brought tents,
they brought music of bonfires,
they brought books and pens,

but they never stayed longer;

his mother said angels had to look
after the whole world,

like his father who was now looking
after someone else, most of all,

to him, the dragons brought hope
of glimpsing his father fly over cliffs

to neighbours across the sky –
that his mother called: the realm
of the lesser protected.

Previously published at Winamop