Sunday, January 15, 2006
A Hole in the Sky
After a breakfast of lavash and fresh cream (I watched the others drink tea) -- we headed for the city of silvers earrings, turquoise tiles, and reflecting pools designed for strolling. Mona, Mohsen, and I rode South on a rickety bus that played censored love songs while speeding through the roads of the young regime. Staring out the window, I wanted to absorb every bit of the bare country before me. I don't remember the day or time, or the type of food the familiar stranger on the adjacent seat offered to share with me, only the red of the earth has stayed in my mind. Years later, when a flower in this garden of life, disappeared overnight and left a gaping hole in the sky, I remembered the bare country before me, the dry red earth and the constellations that shined over the carefree journey...
When you disappeared, you left a gaping hole in the sky. All that was left was a thin ceiling of black velvet. A few diamonds and pearls, stitched into constellations by a seamstress with a second hand apron and shooting stars in her eyes, glimmered faintly. To fill the hole you had left, she stayed up all night with a needle and thread, sewing ambers and emeralds back into the beautiful blackness, of the universe's torn velvet dress. Refusing to remember your smile, your voice, the almond shape of your eyes, fields of strawberries that stretched in your heart, and groves of ancient oak trees that wrinkled around your eyes, so that she would never witness another hole in the sky, she continued to stitch day and night. When her calloused fingers trickled with blood, rubys rained from the sky, melting into drops that dried across the earth of oil and clay, earrings and tile, painting the magnificient desert the sunset red we see today.
When you disappeared, you left a gaping hole in the sky. All that was left was a thin ceiling of black velvet. A few diamonds and pearls, stitched into constellations by a seamstress with a second hand apron and shooting stars in her eyes, glimmered faintly. To fill the hole you had left, she stayed up all night with a needle and thread, sewing ambers and emeralds back into the beautiful blackness, of the universe's torn velvet dress. Refusing to remember your smile, your voice, the almond shape of your eyes, fields of strawberries that stretched in your heart, and groves of ancient oak trees that wrinkled around your eyes, so that she would never witness another hole in the sky, she continued to stitch day and night. When her calloused fingers trickled with blood, rubys rained from the sky, melting into drops that dried across the earth of oil and clay, earrings and tile, painting the magnificient desert the sunset red we see today.
# posted by BaharMeansSpring @ 12:04 AM 
Comments:
<< Home
you can write poetry. do you? 'stiching diamonds and pearls into the sky' deigns to come alive in verse... full of energy, anger, oomph! lots of good imagery in your writing. read rilke...
Yes - the springtimes needed you. Often a star
was waiting for you to notice it. A wave rolled toward you
out of the distant past, or as you walked
under an open window, a violin
yielded itself to your hearing. All this was mission.
But could you accomplish it? Weren't you always
distracted by expectation, as if every event
announced a beloved?
more rilke...
Yes - the springtimes needed you. Often a star
was waiting for you to notice it. A wave rolled toward you
out of the distant past, or as you walked
under an open window, a violin
yielded itself to your hearing. All this was mission.
But could you accomplish it? Weren't you always
distracted by expectation, as if every event
announced a beloved?
more rilke...
For I shall learn from flower and leaf
That color every drop they hold,
To change the lifeless wine of grief
To living gold.
[]
In many another soul I broke the bread,
And drank the wine and played the happy guest,
But I was lonely, I remembered you;
The heart belongs to him who knew it best.
--both are from sara teasdale
have you more musings to come?!
That color every drop they hold,
To change the lifeless wine of grief
To living gold.
[]
In many another soul I broke the bread,
And drank the wine and played the happy guest,
But I was lonely, I remembered you;
The heart belongs to him who knew it best.
--both are from sara teasdale
have you more musings to come?!
I hope to see more writing from you. I dont write much on my blog mostly I link to things I think are interesting but hopefully if this semester goes well I will have more time. Take care lady.
Post a Comment
<< Home
