|
|
It is beyond your imagination What I
have left behind.
I recall the time that I could tell my loving friends: Come, sit
beside me and treat me to a piece of bread Of Kindness for I am
hungry;
Offer me a drop of water Of faith For I am thirsty;
Provide me with a shade Of loving Memories Of the past for I am
tired. I wish that I could ask them to not let me think about my
days in this world,
but my isolated room tells me that they are lost in time and
distance.
When this world is punished and has to turn away from light, I
ask: What is left to go to sleep and wake for?
The clock On the wall used to tell me stories of true lovers and
good people.
And now, I wonder if it witnessed too many fairy tales. with
every breakthrough of light, my lonely hands have reached out
for the old clock and discovered
that it does not talk anymore.
Since I have discovered Pain,I often wonder if it has lost its
faith in humanity.
I believe the first thing it will say is: There is no justice in
this world.
No one brings breakfast to my bed anymore at dawn.
I wake up in the morning and stare at them kindling the visions
of my life.
I am tired of praying. My teacher has a good notion of evil and
goodness. She hopes that one of us will save the world or at
least the peace one day, somewhere.
I do not want to be troubled by unjust incidents far and near
and to lose her faith in virtue. I want too much to make her
Happy.
But each time when I look around and beyond, my mirror tells me
that the world has not changed.
There is no justice in This world. Not everyone eats at noon.
But I go to lunch and I watch them burning down My town, Street
by street.
With every class I wonder Where my lover is. Killing to save his
home or Lying among the blood of his mankind and dusty, ruined
bombed houses.
I can remember his eyes very clearly. They reassured me of Our
love and safety. The eyes would shield me from myself and the
cruel reality of this world.
They would make me Whole and pure again. The naked rose and
empty vase have told me that I have lost them in my childhood.
But I still dream of a miracle.
There is no mercy in this world.
Supper is a feast and everyone gorges. I march to dinner and
gaze at them burying my beloved playmates. I laugh and smile
with them but still manage to dream.
Breathing among them, I try to be strong for them. I wish them
happiness, a good life and the wisdom of motherhood.
It is discomforting when I have to look back into history to
find the time I had a loving friend. Every time I go back to my
room lonelier.
I look at the face in the mirror. The girl from the land of
endless love says: I missed you between hours.
Oh, my cracked heart has taken in too much of my long life. I am
amazed that it still struggles to beat hard next to my skin.
There is no justice in this world.
My old clock cannot count the moments fast enough for me to
return. Listen: My world is beyond your walls and fancy. Flowers
of my garden are the loved ones.
Men of my town are the lovers. Rivers are all rainbows at
sunset.
Yes, I am in love.
I am from Abadan.
by Shahrzad Irani
Corona del Mar, California
iranian.com |
