Saeed Koushan | + Follow Poet |
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Roots Without Soil - Lyric

## Verse 1

I fold my mother's silver spoon—crescent bright,  
Worn soft as secrets whispered through the night.  
Her thumb's warm press, a tender, sacred trace,  
Curves like a prayer held close in time and place.  
Now bitter dust swirls in a paper cup's embrace,  
Instant coffee settles—no homeland to retrace.  
The clerk repeats my name—a broken hymn,  
I spell each letter till the sounds grow dim.

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## Chorus

Roots without soil, I trace Persian skies,  
Sweet dates on my tongue, dawn prayers in my eyes.  
Fires forbidden, yet in me they reside,  
Across these lands, where my ancestors cried.

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## Verse 2

At laundromats, I fold shirts worn and thin,  
And hold the shape where father's frame has been.  
Beside me, whispers soft as evening rain:  
"Mi amor"—melodies that soothe some pain.  
I swallow embers burning in my chest,  
Persian fires I'm forbidden to confess.  
Green leaves unfurl like secrets I once kept,  
Curled tight as letters that my mother wept.

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## Chorus

Roots without soil, I trace Persian skies,  
Sweet dates on my tongue, dawn prayers in my eyes.  
Fires forbidden, yet in me they reside,  
Across these lands, where my ancestors cried.

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## Bridge

Tall trees stand where desert winds once bit,  
Back home, jasmine chokes in fading light.  
Those roots broke concrete, shattered stone with might,  
Thirsting for waters lost to endless flight.

I trace the mathematics of my loss—  
Subtract dawn prayers, divide the dates,  
Multiply silence by the tears I hide.  
Yet still my dreams speak Persian—wild and free,  
Tongue honeyed with the taste of what could be.

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## Verse 3

My sun-dark hands plant mint in coffee cans,  
Where memories bloom beyond their native lands.  
Green leaves grow fierce, defy their careful plans,  
Crack pavement wide, take root where no one stands.

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## Chorus

Roots without soil, I trace Persian skies,  
Sweet dates on my tongue, dawn prayers in my eyes.  
Fires forbidden, yet in me they reside,  
Across these lands, where my ancestors cried.

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## Outro

A silver shoot breaks through at break of dawn,  
Mother's voice whispers: "My love, you are not gone."  
I hold this green, this impossible bloom,  
Persian fires still burning in this room.  
The taste of love still lingers—bright through absence.

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