Poems of Healing

At the End of the Tunnel

They told us:
With patience
you shall make sweet
sweet halvah
from sour grapes.
I put salt
on my sour grapes
and I eat them.

They told us:
There is a light
at the end
of the tunnel.

We make believe
that the dark
is less
than the light;
we walk tenuously.
We stumble,
but we are patient;
we wait
for that light
at the end
of the tunnel,
as we watch our seeds
in the dark
cupboard of our kitchens
and our babies
in the darkness
of our wombs
and we still
wait for the light.

I want to tell you
the light
cannot get through
because at the far end
of the tunnel
a pomegranate tree

is growing.

It feeds on light.
It stores light.

In the harshness
of drought
followed by flood,
a pomegranate
bursts open.
A glowing globe;
neither bruised
nor wounded.
Open: to show
beauty and power.
Each seed
translucent and fiery,
each seed transparent
with a visible heart.

We journey
through our tunnels
and in the spaces
between them.
We receive
comfort and joy.
We receive
pain and loss.

We eat them.

And with luck
we burst open.
We glow.

Esther Kamkar, Palo Alto, California artist and poet. Poems, poetry, writing, published works - footer logo

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