Saturday, September 15, 2012

Free


What if I don’t wake up tomorrow?
Or what if I just wake up and see that I’m still 9?
What if I have already died?
What if this is the dream of my afterlife?

I’m scared, all the childhood fears have returned.
I hear strange noises from under my bed at nights
and I want to leave the lights on when I sleep.

It’s a big shock you know;
when you suddenly realize that you,
are the only one who is responsible...

It’s scary when you see all the fears that you had as a child,
are all standing behind you
and now they’re called your issues.

When did this darkness become you?
When did we become sinners for believing?
When did my home become a prison?

The dark night is looming behind every single window,
and we are too terrified of the scarecrows,
which we put on every corner to keep the evil away,
that we just can’t walk up to our windows
and tear the curtain of this fake night,
down the sunrise of our souls.

when I was 5,
I could swear that the coat-hanger in the corner of my room,
moved at night; and I would hide underneath my covers, prying that I was dreaming.
and now I can see many of them, walking around every where.

A ritual’s due.
there will be a sacrifice . . . of something grand . . .
and the blood
is on the hands of my monster.

We followed the Milky Way
made up of fake little papery stars,
and it lead us to the wrongest of places.

I feel tainted.
My home is my prison...

I lit a candle,
to face the monster that has been my nightmare all my life.
and for the first time, I opened my eyes to see...just to see,
that there's an spitting image of me,
standing there with blood on her hands...

Is it a price we had to pay for a life that was never mine to begin with?
...We had to sacrifice...to live.

A moment of clarity,
as if lucid for the first time...
we killed our freedom and chose a lifetime,
without it.



What have we done?


July 17, 2008

1 comment:

  1. Copied from Multiply:


    dpatrickt wrote on Jul 16, '08

    Salam
    It easy from here to tell you how to fix everything, chase all the ghosts from your closet, embrace your curls and sing a sweet song or something. If had lived in Tehran all my life, maybe I would have a right to try to do so.
    But I say this--your recognition of what goes on around you, the deceit, the fear, the repression, as a daily fare, and your blogging about it, is to meet it head-on, face to face. It is a put a handle on it, and the 'issues' that have developed, as you grew up.
    --Awareness.
    Awareness is the one thing that nothing can ever rob you of.
    Authoritarian regimes plant the seeds of their own death as the people suffer at their hands.
    Nothing can stop it.
    Persia has thousands of years of amazing karma ,of justice, beauty, enlightenment. Nothing can stop that, either!
    As you well know, it is in the very texture of your lives, is treasured deeply, and cannot be buried. It is just waiting, in caring hearts and the saddened, seeing eyes such as yours. And you also know you are not alone in this.
    Truth cannot be stamped out, just as no scarf can ever hide natural curls.
    May the Spirit bless you, with patience, balance, and perserverance.
    Dooset daram, Negin jan.
    Damet garm.

    (Very strange fonts and graphics, Neg. Were they intentional?
    I dunno..but they work! --Looks almost like you've been reading ee cummings again...or something!!)
    ssg


    cosmicfuguestate wrote on Jul 16, '08
    The words, the photo, wow! Thanks for posting this.


    mysticmaze wrote on Jul 17, '08
    Haunting and insightful, Negin!

    Childhood terrors sometimes provide us with tangible clues about what we will become - our ultimate destiny. Yours certainly must include using the written word to express the intangible truth of being! It is through feeling AND sharing our fear that humans become more connected and aware.

    Thank you for this!

    ReplyDelete