I am knitting blue wings into my dress,
sewing sparrows in its sleeves.
I draw a sky of smoke on my scarf.
The evening news reports that Anisa,
who escaped from her house,
was stoned. She loved Hakim,
wished to marry him.
He was stoned with her.
My little boy cries. I am hungry,
run to the kitchen,
cook my heart.
When I wash the dishes,
scrubbing each plate and glass,
I wish I could clean
the destiny of the unlucky couple.
I comb my son’s hair.
My hands touch strands
of hope on his young head.
I pray for the light.
I grab my notebook,
Write that I am tired
of seeing tears in my women’s eyes,
tired of hearing their sad voices,
helpless, worried.
Anisa and Hakim—stoned.
I am tired of writing poems
that smell like sorrow.
By N.
A stunning poem, N.
There is so much to feel here, and to feel it deeply.
But I must say the imagery is so powerful. You are capturing so much in these short stanzas, lines.
Well done.
Stacy
This is beautifully written.
I feel it perfectly.
Thank you for writing.
I share my heart back to you.
N., Your poetic language and strong imagery bring the reader into the poem to feel your emotion. Your words are sad and beautiful at the same time. Thank you for this poem.
Pat
N., you are a true poet. Your writing takes my breath away. I love the first line ,”I am knitting blue wings into my dress.” Poems “that smell like sorrow” is a devastating image. You give meaning to Anisa’s life.
N,
Thanks for writing this, as painful as it is. Your writing connects with the heart and reminds me of others’ lives. Thank you.
N., I am so moved by this strong, delicate poem and by the way you take the reader, step by step, deeper into despair and hopelessness, while somehow capturing light at the same time. The light is the use of language itself. Some of the most powerful phrases for me: “knitting blue wings into my dress” — immediately we feel the speaker’s yearning to escape an impossible situation. Sparrows and smoke also suggest escape, but smoke is more ominous. It disappears. She needs wings, sparrows and smoke to escape the situation, the dress, of her life. “Cook my heart” — this is utterly original, and with so few words condenses the anguish of the speaker with her duty… she must cook, of course… but cook her heart? Again, another impossible situation … her son is her heart, her life is her heart, she must do what she can, but the pain is incalculable. The destiny of the doomed couple is in the dishes she tries to scrub clean. The word “smell” in the final line is especially powerful and unexpected. It keeps us in the kitchen, in the life of the speaker and the life that she cannot escape, even in her poem.
A beautiful reading. I love every word!
Wrenching and beautiful at the same time, this is a very powerful poem.
Thank you for sharing it.