Never to be called mom
By Sheema Kalbasi
September 14, 2000
The Iranian
One day,
my eyes
were looking deep
into the blue sea
of my heart,
a monster of salty tears
rose from the waves,
I stopped laughing
at moments of pink places
and a tiny village of...
exhaustion was emptying
my battery of opening sentences
when happy white rice puddings
didn't taste like they used to...
and a little butter was melting
in the remains of my thought
and the released
.......................velvet
.......................rope of a child
.......................into an abortion
world
where it was led to come undone,
my soul was windowless...
walking
as two separate people,
started
to walk around my own body
Music
food for the mind,
a kind of therapy,
to let myself grow with its power
form a peaceful dance
of musical notes
to
calm
my
crowded
thoughts
my body
operate...function.
my loss
the evolution
of my nature
saturated
to
comprehensive
art
science
a sunflower
...shine
a rose - gift of occasions,
my soul moved
dancing to the music
which I played
the vision of happiness
to rescue my blinded womanhood
The Rain - washes
away the Pain
... the Earth makes my roots stronger
Solid Ground,
My spirit...Faith
