"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, February 23, 2013

CHIZAR


Of course, it was never my choice:
Could I have made a better one?
Someone before me chose the top
Of a sheltered kuche’s tight run
Beneath the nearby mountain slopes:
Each rear window’s craggy montage
That sprawled and took my breath away –
Arching like an electric charge.

At the kuche’s open ending
Stood the small shops – quaint enterprise –
Hire cars, general supplies, fresh fruit –
Not much that could excite my eyes.

Meanwhile, the swarming traffic swirled
Around narrow streets that converged
In this reclaimed village that housed
Big spenders all – hard won gains splurged –
On luxury homes that towered
Behind concrete walls’ marble facing
Hiding gardens for summer sport -
Pool parties that set hearts racing.

Swimming stopped when the snow fell thick
On flat black roofs and garden beds.
We stoked the furnace to stay warm
And set metal studs in tyre threads
So we could drive south to our work
In the frosty districts below
And look back north again to see
A lasting lustrous coat of snow.

The sun was soon back in our skies.
Chizar was high so it stayed cool
Compared to the dense heat below.
Still pale, we blushed into the pool.
Leaves once more graced tall poplar trees
And mad parties upset the night.
Is it any wonder our noise
Annoyed the force beyond our sight?
We failed to see the crowds at mosques
And overlooked new black chadors
Until the guards were in our streets -
Trained to settle a few old scores.

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