A Call From A Smiling Heart
Hearts, normal or tough, on blood do feed,
by Montazar AnNayef
Except my heart, which feeds on love, the sweetest seed.
Mine is like glass:
It shows not what’s in, for light through which can pass.
My heart can never be a mirror,
For mirrors show seekers all sorts of horror
And change faces as many as they meet:
Clean with the clean, and cracked in weeping eyes.
Mine always smiles
At people as far as thousands of miles.
It always hopes that other hearts
Join it in smiling since it is never hard
To make others happy when they see your smile.
Hearts, normal or tough, on love should feed
Since love, witness I, is the sweetest seed.
14 March 1997