To mahnaz ( viran sara)

After great pain, a foramal feeling comes
The nerves sit ceremonious, like tombs
The stiff heart questions was it he , that bore
And yesterday , or Centuries before

The feet , mechanical , go round
Of ground ,or air ,or ought
A wooden way
Regardless grown
A Quartz contenment ,like a stone

This is the hour of lead
Remember if outlived
As freezing persons , recollect the snow
First - chill- then stupor - then the letting go