Said the Leaf to the Tree

Said the leaf to the tree,
'This year,
let the leaves not fall.
Let autumn not come!'

Replied the tree,
'Brother Leaf,
This is the law of the world.
One leaves. The other arrives.'

Kabir, the mystic Indian sufi, wrote that. Have been carrying such a heavy tired sadness all day. Dawn left on Friday the 13th. Her little joke?! One last joke. Reminding me of Goodbye, Mr Chips... have you read it? One of those perfect novels, that aren't novels, but really friends.
Anyway, this evening, I received an email telling me a poem of mine has 'gone live' in a Chicago medical humanities journal called Hektoen International. I think Dawn was a bit fed up with my tears. Silly billy, she must have thought, and sent something to cheer me up.

It's working. I feel a smile coming on. Only a small one, mind. Am still cross with the tree. But it's not the tree's fault. We come, we go. It's the law of the world. Said the poet.

The other joke is this; the poem of mine published today, is called Continuation Day...

Shaista Tayabali
Cambridge, United Kingdom

Poet’s statement: When I was 18, I was diagnosed with systemic lupus erythematosus, and poetry began to define the landscape of my soul. It saves me now, from needles, night sweats, ulcers, glaucoma, and the general terrors of global happenings. I write, and my soul takes flight. Death is a companion now. Not particularly friendly, but entirely familiar. I see the cloak everywhere, across time, and behind closed doors on the wards. I examine the shadow, inspect it from all angles. And yet, Death surprises me. Poetry is my shield against this temporal existence.
 

Continuation day

How does a part of the world leave the world?
How can wetness leave water?
— Rumi

A memory tugged at me
weeding in the garden

I looked up
to hear
your laugh
reach the furthest branches

reminding me
though the light may dim
the birds sing on
enchanted.

from Hektoen International: A Journal of Medical Humanities 
to Magpie Tales