last night I began to paint.
I painted and painted all night until
she opened her eyes and ran out screaming.
My choice of canvas may have shocked her.
I thought it would be a good idea to paint us,
a beautiful portrait of us.
From when things were good and beautiful and real.
I started looking for something to paint on and
that’s when I started to paint us inside my eyelids.
This way when I close my eyes
and I see us, I have an excuse.
I’m no longer crazy.
I’m no longer lost and mad and scared and alone.
But she doesn’t understand and it scares her
and when she looks into the mirror
at what she has become
she is shocked by it
and scared of it
and ashamed of it.
So she sees me painting and she runs.
She runs to scrub herself from all of this. because our stains cover me
I know I need to scrub them out but I’m not sure how .
your stains are me
I know I need to find myself again
but I’m not sure where to begin.
Your hurt and my hurt have settled inside of me.
Intertwining winding combining creating
I can’t lose one without losing them both
So for now,
I paint.
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نسرین ستوده: زندانی روز | Dec 04 | |
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احسان نراقی: جامعه شناس و نویسنده ۱۳۰۵-۱۳۹۱ | Dec 02 | |
Nasrin Sotoudeh: Prisoner of the day | 46 days on hunger strike | Dec 01 |
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گوهر عشقی: مادر ستار بهشتی | Nov 30 | |
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محمد کلالی: یکی از حمله کنندگان به سفارت ایران در برلین | Nov 29 | |
Habibollah Golparipour: Prisoner of the day | Kurdish Activist on Death Row | Nov 28 |