"We shall not cease from exploration and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started
and know the place for the first time." (T S Eliot)
"A dark and chanted verse is what I am." (
Forough Farrokhzad)

Saturday, October 6, 2012

SEPTEMBER 1978


The last time I saw you
Was across six traffic streams
That jammed Pahlavi Boulevard
In the early morning rush.

You called for a taxi –
One of those multi-hire insects
That scrabbled through the streets
Of old Tehran
For a few rials a time.

You were still so beautiful
That you took my breath away,
And four cabs veered
Across those haphazard lanes
To claim your fare
And share their space with you.

For a split second I was up to pursuit,
Ready to catch you and make my plea -
Argue my case again and win your verdict –
Anything to be part of your world again.

Yet you did not see me.
You were flustered, in a hurry:
You looked angry and intense.
If only you had been relaxed
With evident moments to spare.
Then you might have seen me;
And my longing look
Might have brought forth that smile –
Perhaps even a wave or more.

And, if you had but smiled at me,
I would not have had the willpower
To set you free again … ever.

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