My Beloved!
What are you exactly?
To me perhaps,
The distant memories
Of a rowdy child.
The Goosebumps I had
In the cold dark cinema
With a frosty Pepsi in my hand.
Or perhaps,
The garlic flavor of bologna
The orange color of Fanta
Or the salt of doogh.
You’re the burning sensation,
The sting of punishment
In the palms of my hands.
The painful strikes
Of the merciless flog
For my sloppy homework
Or for being late to school.
You’re every word I misspelled
When I was dictated to.
You’re the sweet
Steam of the baked beets
On the street vendor’s cart.
You’re the stripes of the plastic balls
I kicked as a child.
You’re as dark,
As gooey as the melted tar
Stuck to the sole of my bare feet
In the summer heat of Ahvaz.
You’re the fight
I had with classmates once in a while.
You’re my sore throat
And my doctor excuse.
You’re my ruthless teachers
In third grade and four.
The slap in my face,
The excruciating pain
When a pencil was squeezed
Between my young fingers.
You’re my first day of spring
The New Year’s joy
The aroma of roasted nuts
The haft seen, the hyacinth
The cash I received
The thirteen days of happiness.
You’re as scarlet as poppies,
Blanketed the outskirts of our town.
You’re the scent of breads,
My aunt baked every week,
On the roof of her house.
Oh and I dodged your wrath
Every time my angry mother
Threw a shoe at me
Or an orange peel or a spatula
Now that I think of it,
The spatula, I didn’t dodge
It did hit me, right in the forehead.
And I cherished your mercy
Your kindness
And compassion
In the lap of my favorite aunt
After every punishment.
And I enjoyed your loans
From your petty cash,
The little change
I borrowed from the same aunt
The ones of course I never repaid.
You’re my feverish youth
The one stolen kiss
I swear to God, only one
From my first love
That forbidden touch
At the age of fourteen!
The mischievous innocence
That scandalous affair
And the long family feud
That came afterward.
You’re in the books
I read in solitude
The new horizon I saw
The Illicit ideas, the contraband thoughts
The taboo subject of your life
And certainly all of mine
Freedom for all.
Then came the turmoil
The revolution
The decisive moments
Of my life and yours.
A rush in my veins
An ideal
To make a dream come true.
I was there
With millions in the streets
In the heat of upheaval
In the labyrinth of Tehran.
We made the change
Some say for better
Some say for worse.
When the fever quenched
And the dust settled,
Our hopes dashed
Fear
Despair
Sorrow
Only terror
Was left behind.
Then it came the time
To leave you behind
I had to survive
Surely you understand.
To live in a foreign land,
Hoping that one day
Call it my home.
Years and years past
That day never came.
My Beloved!
You’re an enigma
A tall shadow
An innocent angel
Born in the limbo
Of my hazy dreams.
I’m intoxicated
By an exotic mélange
Of sentiments
Some I don’t comprehend
Some I don’t dare to share
Some I never had before
And
Some I may never have again.
What are you exactly?
To me perhaps,
The distant memories
Of a rowdy child.
The Goosebumps I had
In the cold dark cinema
With a frosty Pepsi in my hand.
Or perhaps,
The garlic flavor of bologna
The orange color of Fanta
Or the salt of doogh.
You’re the burning sensation,
The sting of punishment
In the palms of my hands.
The painful strikes
Of the merciless flog
For my sloppy homework
Or for being late to school.
You’re every word I misspelled
When I was dictated to.
You’re the sweet
Steam of the baked beets
On the street vendor’s cart.
You’re the stripes of the plastic balls
I kicked as a child.
You’re as dark,
As gooey as the melted tar
Stuck to the sole of my bare feet
In the summer heat of Ahvaz.
You’re the fight
I had with classmates once in a while.
You’re my sore throat
And my doctor excuse.
You’re my ruthless teachers
In third grade and four.
The slap in my face,
The excruciating pain
When a pencil was squeezed
Between my young fingers.
You’re my first day of spring
The New Year’s joy
The aroma of roasted nuts
The haft seen, the hyacinth
The cash I received
The thirteen days of happiness.
You’re as scarlet as poppies,
Blanketed the outskirts of our town.
You’re the scent of breads,
My aunt baked every week,
On the roof of her house.
Oh and I dodged your wrath
Every time my angry mother
Threw a shoe at me
Or an orange peel or a spatula
Now that I think of it,
The spatula, I didn’t dodge
It did hit me, right in the forehead.
And I cherished your mercy
Your kindness
And compassion
In the lap of my favorite aunt
After every punishment.
And I enjoyed your loans
From your petty cash,
The little change
I borrowed from the same aunt
The ones of course I never repaid.
You’re my feverish youth
The one stolen kiss
I swear to God, only one
From my first love
That forbidden touch
At the age of fourteen!
The mischievous innocence
That scandalous affair
And the long family feud
That came afterward.
You’re in the books
I read in solitude
The new horizon I saw
The Illicit ideas, the contraband thoughts
The taboo subject of your life
And certainly all of mine
Freedom for all.
Then came the turmoil
The revolution
The decisive moments
Of my life and yours.
A rush in my veins
An ideal
To make a dream come true.
I was there
With millions in the streets
In the heat of upheaval
In the labyrinth of Tehran.
We made the change
Some say for better
Some say for worse.
When the fever quenched
And the dust settled,
Our hopes dashed
Fear
Despair
Sorrow
Only terror
Was left behind.
Then it came the time
To leave you behind
I had to survive
Surely you understand.
To live in a foreign land,
Hoping that one day
Call it my home.
Years and years past
That day never came.
My Beloved!
You’re an enigma
A tall shadow
An innocent angel
Born in the limbo
Of my hazy dreams.
I’m intoxicated
By an exotic mélange
Of sentiments
Some I don’t comprehend
Some I don’t dare to share
Some I never had before
And
Some I may never have again.