Cklara Moradian; Another Grief Poem #43
VOKRadio, Los Angeles, California, USA   

Another Grief Poem #43

It's Halabja, Newroz, March again (which means Diaspora Blues are in high gear)

cklara_rita_photo.jpg

Cklara Moradian

Los Angeles, Mrch 4, 2018

 

To Mehmet, now dead. To Airports, now closed.
To Homeland, now destroyed. 
To loss/ I can't recall where or how or whom.
To Kurdistan, of my imagination.
To Newroz, in diaspora.
To (lesser) loves, now gone...


I know, my dear
I must not stare directly at this
darkness
(have mercy, they implore)
I must not look into the dazzling brilliance of
your memory 
                                   

None    the    less

I risk eternal despair for a moment of (re)connection. Maybe

I can look away just in time. Maybe
I can distract just enough. Maybe

The imprinted image of your face stays/ behind my eyelids/ I see
your silhouette/ still.

In the bitter depth of my throat/ under my sour tongue
you are all I taste/ still.


This is how/who you are. missed/ fading/ light
A halo around my setting sun. ephemeral in your

 permanence.

 

 

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