Unstitch my mouth of black threads & brine
Unbound my hands, I am in search of garden
I am marking with red seeds, this path, mine
Not on your ancient books or shrines
Not on your laws with heavy curtains
Unstitch my mouth of black threads & brine
Your morality police lacks spine
My voice, my face etched with burdens
I am marking with red seeds, this path, mine
Searching for my own power & shine
Your cruel blows kill - I can't pardon
Unstitch my mouth of black threads & brine
Do you fear that I will get out of line?
I am Eve and Anahita
I'm marking this body with red seeds, mine
With sacred twigs & water from the garden
I'll draw rockets, stairways, freedom
I unstitch my mouth of black threads & brine
I am marking with red seeds, this path, mine
The Pomegranate Garden,” acrylic on canvas mounted on shaped wood panels, 74 x 57 x 8 inches
Inspired by the Iranian artist, Arghavan Khosravi, Colossal.
Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - OpenLinkNight. Join us with your poem when the pub doors open at 3pm EST. Have a good weekend!
Such powerful poetry, Grace!
ReplyDeleteEnjoyed and inspired by reading this.
The horror of being bound by the "morality police" who stitch up the mouth, what a perfect metaphor, and the strength of will to break free like "red seeds": gorgeous use of imagery. And I love the use of gardens and seeds in your poetry, Grace. It's become your particular signature. Just a pleasure to read and enjoy, Grace
ReplyDeleteSo powerful, creative imagery. The morality police have feared women and women's bodies for thousands of years. And here we go again. Sigh.
ReplyDeleteI love how you took inspiration from Khosravi's art to create such a compelling verse, Grace. The "morality police" is everywhere trying to crush what they fear.
ReplyDeleteA powerful write, Grace. These lines particularly moved me:
ReplyDelete"Unbound my hands, I am in search of garden"
"I'll draw rockets, stairways, freedom"
What can the morality police do to a pomegranate garden? "I unstitch my mouth of black threads & brine / I am marking with red seeds, this path, mine" - like Persephone hallowing a path between Hades and Earth.
ReplyDeleteThis is an expertly-written villanelle.
ReplyDeleteSuch a powerful and timely poem. Your words add energy to the current actions of the women in Iran. - Suzanne (wordpress blog - Mapping Uncertainty
ReplyDeleteRAWR, woman! Love your use of form, too.
ReplyDeleteThis is gorgeous poetry, you mastered a difficult form. My former husband's granddaughter is named Anahita, her younger brother, Artaban. Their father from Iran ... they all live in St. Louis, happily.
ReplyDeleteLovely poem :)
ReplyDeleteLove your words
ReplyDelete