memory never deceives nor canitude doth
nor the memory of scents
and the memory of petrichor
is what your face essenced with
it was in April under a cloudy sky yet with pure clouds phalerate
that I found my antidote
how I yearned to cocoon you from the zephyr the dews and the clamour
and it happened that you bloom
and grow and grow to disown me
my immortal deliria
but I shall not blame you
for rendering me jejune
O my aeonian yet lachrymal spring
All along my childhood I was considered as the poor little thing, so fragile and sick, bereft of having a normal childhood for fear that I might be harmed. Yet this was not a good chapter of life to remember had it not been for the bliss and warmness that my grandmother used to fill my little heart with. I remember her soft and warm voice while telling me tales, the biscuits she used to hide for me, the games she used to invent to beguile the tedious hours I used to spend doing nothing and to draw me near to her. She was indeed my antidote, and most of my dearworth souvenirs I have had in life were thanks to her.
Ilhem Issaoui is a 24 year old tunisian translator ,editor, and poetry and short stories writer. some of her poems and short stories have appeared both online and in print in magazines including Three line poetry,Salis Online Magazine,Mind Magazine,Mad Swirl ,Jaffatelaqlam ,Danse Macabre,Iodine Poetry Journal ...
She is also the author of a collection of poems entitled Fragments Of A Wounded Soul published in the U.S, and has received a prize in creative writing (Canada Toronto). She currently holds the position of a translator and editor at an international company in the domain of medical tourism and has two years of experience.