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Poetry

Half-missing


Tahereh Tavous
December 7, 2005
iranian.com

the closed girl grows into a locked woman

an imposed silence

a silence guarded

when did silence become so loud?

mine is deafening

a locked woman is simply a broken girl

a girl undone

half

m         I            s            s            I            n            g

AS IS- ask for discount at register

she WILL sell herself, you know

everything has a price

it had a price.

i had a price

still broken

Yekee Bood Yekee Nabood…

who was the nabood?

the silent one in the shadow of the one that bood

perhaps the nabood had sinned

and was shunned

the way nanehjoon promised

swore

wept

shouted to God

i  would end up

i am incomplete until i learn to sew

she hissed at me

i can not help but wonder what you see when you look

i hate the looks

don’t look into me dammit look at me

is it written somewhere on my face

in my voice

in my eyes

in my questions

in my wanting

is it written on my legs

I hate the looks

I was always scared that I wouldnt be able to conceive

perhaps divine retribution for the bare arms and long hair

but would it matter

would I want to bring someone else into this

flawed mistake longing for paradise

my paradise is in the water

one day Ill walk in

and keep walking

and as the water embraces me

in the way no one else has been able to

i can take it all in

and i can float away

with the broken dreams

of a girl undone

i lied

i said i was okay

i must learn to sew

maybe then i can be okay?

i will sew until my hands are blistered and torn

i will sew sweaters to cover my sinful arms

scarves to mask a sinful neck

stained with kisses and broken promises

hats to pull down a sinful smile

do you know what it is to not feel pain

when you feel so much that you must stop feeling

a numb happiness to make up for the tears

that filled the pillow of the broken girl

a fake smile to mask the screams

of a girl stained

do you look because you can see past the smile

the edges where my smile cracks

into the sad pathetic cry

I can no longer make

Into the scream

My silence forbids me to scream

Living under the veil I supposedly escaped

i will keep sewing

until i run out of sinful skin to cover

but scarves and sweaters can not contain

the red halo

glowing. taunting. unabashed.

so i will sew my legs closed

that will solve the problem

of a broken girl.

i can close my eyes to see the approving looks

of the nanehs and the ones that bood

at the bleeding hurting flesh

so pure

is that pain?

i’m afraid that if I let myself begin to feel it

i wont be able to stop

and I will be consumed by it

years of silence will manifest into an agony

with no place left

but an empty ocean

to slowly walk into longing for an embrace

i had a dream I was falling

i have fallen

i hope not from His grace

but from my own

so what do you see when you see me

do you see what I see

you cant

do you see two blue eyes

big

or can you see two haunted seas waiting for the sad girl to jump in

i want to break the glass that surrounds the pristine existence

of a flawed princess

so that i can escape their looks

and so that when i held it not the  fleeting sense of safety which make me close my eyes for a few moments

i lied

i don’t think Ill ever be okay

is anyone?

i sewed myself together

to feel pain

a desperate longing to feel what others hide from

if I hurt I would feel but I didn’t

i will leave with bleeding legs and a broken smile

but no pain

you know the shoulders of a woman are the most beautiful part of her

tear off the sweater

the last to go in before she dunks her head back into the cold water

burn it

and she floats away

fall

to a place she does not know

maybe there she can hurt

and remember what it is to feel

or maybe the cold of the sea will bring an ironic numbness

to the lost flesh so longing to feel.

 

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Book of the day
mage.com

Stories From Iran
A Chicago Anthology 1921-1991
edited by Heshmat Moayyad

 

 

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