Shownotes
One Poem Only is a daily ritual: one poem, center stage, just for now.
On the Roof I See
Mirela Salihovic
My little sister and I,
When we’re in the tent,
love to play a game.
We call it:
"On the roof I see..."
And whoever’s turn it is
says what they see on the tent’s roof.
On the roof I see…
Birds of all sizes.
They land on the tent roof
and tiptoe across the canvas
with their tiny feet.
They wander back and forth.
I hear them chirping.
Winter is coming.
It will be cold under the tent.
Mom will bring more blankets and quilts
from the humanitarian aid.
Father’s friend Ahmed
used to sell beautiful quilts
in his little shop
at the end of the street.
Before they threw rocks at it
and destroyed it.
The birds fly off to warmer places.
On the roof I see…
Raindrops.
They sparkle in the morning sun
like crystals.
On the roof I see…
Leaves falling from the trees
in autumn.
Our old mulberry tree didn’t survive the shell.
My sister and I
hid in its trunk
when we played hide-and-seek.
We would hang from its branches.
Mom made homemade jam
from its white clusters.
On the roof I see…
The moon and stars.
The tent’s roof is see-through,
so at night,
when the sky is clear,
you can see the moon and stars.
On the roof I see…
Mom dusting
and bird droppings.
On the roof I see…
The roof of our old house.
Dad says:
"When the war is over, we’ll come back
and rebuild everything.
With our own hands."
On the roof I see…
I want to believe my dad.
I want to go back to elementary school.
If there were no war,
I’d be in seventh grade.
I want to play hide-and-seek again
with my sister
and hide in the old mulberry tree.
I want to see my best friend, Omar.
I wish we could play with paper airplanes.
The ones flying above us now
aren’t as fun.
And when I hear the sound of those airplanes nearby,
I hold my sister
and lay her head on my chest.
And I tell her that on the roof I see…
Flowers of every color
growing from the tent’s canvas,
as if from the earth itself.
More from Author ↓
Support + Stay Connected to OPO
If you’d like to support the show, Substack and Patreon members receive a copy of my book, For My Daughter, along with episodes from the audiobook.
Poetry shows us what we need. Thank you for being part of the experience.
Mentioned in this episode:
One Poem Only submissions are open.
I’m filling the next chapter of One Poem Only and would love to include your work. Send me the poem you wrote and want the world to hear. New this round: if you’d like to read your own poem on the podcast, you can. No need for a perfect studio recording—just a clear audio file recorded in a quiet space. If you choose this option, you’ll submit your poem and an audio file of you reading it. Submissions close Thursday, July 30. I’ll respond by August 12. Whether I read your poem or you read it yourself, I’d love to hear what you’re ready to share.
