Amen Bird

She is the Amen Bird.

Once she perched upon the shoulders of others, light and unseen, her wings carrying the gentle weight of hope. She whispered Amen to their secret prayers, breathed life into desires too fragile to voice. She was generosity itself, giving her song freely, offering her breath as though it belonged to the world.

But unfulfilled wishes are heavy. Each Amen became a stone in her chest, each unanswered plea a shadow upon her feathers. She carried them all, tireless and tender, until the silence of the world grew too loud, until the weight of sorrow bent her wings.

And so she flew to the window of the “Saqakhaneh”, the sacred water-house where travellers pause to drink, where prayers rest upon the surface of water, where devotion flows like a stream into eternity. The Saqakhaneh is a place of generosity, of yearning, of shared devotion. At its window, lined in deep lapis and gold, she sought her rest.

There, she stilled. There, she turned to stone.

Upon her shoulders appeared Eslimi patterns, golden spirals that traced every hardship she had endured. These ornaments, delicate yet unyielding, were not merely decoration but scars made luminous, a record of every unanswered prayer, every ache transfigured into beauty.

And yet, silence is never final. Two birds came upon her. Drawn not to her stillness but to the depth it concealed, they circled her stone form with devotion. They sang, their voices trembling with grief for her silence and awe for her endurance. They wept, their tears carrying both sorrow and love.

From their song, golden flowers bloomed. They burst across the Saqakhaneh’s window, gilding its blue lattice with blossoms of light. Love itself became visible: radiant, uncontainable, turning stone into garden, silence into music.

This was no tale of despair, but of transformation. The Amin Bird, though turned to stone, had not vanished. She had become something greater, a vessel of silence that could still bloom, a keeper of prayers who revealed their true power.

For prayers are not always answered in the way they are spoken. They are answered in love, in devotion, in the flowering of beauty where none was expected.

She is the Amen Bird. She is the whisper of countless wishes, the silence of unanswered longing, the stone at the Saqakhaneh’s window, the golden blooms born of devotion. She remains, not broken, not forgotten, but transformed.