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For Clotilde Reiss (She seems one of those rare, wonderful people who fall in love with a country at a young age and revel in the beauty of the language, culture and society for the rest of their lives.) From The Caledoniyya Blog (Poem by Wendy Howe ) Persia came to you as a child, her shadow on the face of the nurse minding you, her breath in the words and perfume of this woman cradling your innocence. You loved the scent, the song in her voice pitching fables and fruits from her homeland that grafted its beauty to your bone. The ache for more intensified with years. Persia beckoned you as a girl leaning over some book and watching a page become a tracery of script that peered into the verse of her ancient tongue. You covered your hair with a shawl revealing dark bangs and respect as your hands carried luggage off the plane holding the weight of apparel, not the West. Persia welcomed the student with light. The sky adorned its ceiling with a mosaic of stars, minarets glittered as if they were tall coffee pots hosting a meal, fine conversation and the wind always near, a mild hum of weather among the cypress trees; but in June, the nation stormed. Riots enflamed the streets with protest while you stood watching. To know more about this poem, about Wendy Howe All Images & Poems (En) |
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Free MUSIC provided by Persia tended your tenacity as you stayed taking pictures with a mobile phone. She lit the straw lungs within you and let fire spring from the dry harvest of breath, this prayer flaring from the emblematic spark of a name, your own battle cry to survive 
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