A Donkey Turning a Millstone is not Trying to Press Oil from Sesame Seed. He is Fleeing the Blow That Was Just Struck and Hoping to Avoid the Next (Rumi)

Millstones grind

Like memories do

And all becomes powder

And all flies with the evening wind

I have seen desert Marigold flower

Ignore the sun and heat

And only drink of the moon

To give a shade to the quail

But when the rain washes away

All the comfort of the harsh days

What remains are deep scars

That have no wounds

That have no memory

Of the blow

Just the patience

Of survival

About the Photo: I took it in Morocco with a 1970's Minolta Autocord TLR camera.

August 16, 2019

© Vahé A. Kazandjian, 2019