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POEMS & SHORT STORIES...

SOHEILA GHODSTINAT

My house,
my faithful house,
the one I left a long time ago.

My house,

With its thousands of sweet memories.
it was not as dark and as silent as you think it.
.It was full of light, with wide bright windows.

25 May 2012 Friday 17:51
My house,
my faithful house,
the one I left a long time ago.

My house,

With its thousands of sweet memories.
it was not as dark and as silent as you think it.
.It was full of light, with wide bright windows.

My dark bright house
I can see the sun playing with the water,
and hear the wind caressing the trees
and my father is entering it,
with his strong, confident foot-steps.
Telling us:
‘Here I am, don’t be scared
I won’t let the house go!
I will keep it for you and your children.
All you have to do is to love it!’
and my mother is walking in our garden and singing to the flowers
and my grandmother is telling a secret to the walls
and my nanny’s laughter is filling the air in the backyard.

Suddenly they all disappear, one by one
Leaving us in sadness and grief along with the house.
We are confused, angry, desperate.
We don’t want the house
we want to destroy it
the house says nothing,
it waits with its worries.

We give it away
Put it in the hands of stranger
greedy and self-interested.

The house goes silent.
It is mute, deaf, frightened
But full of hope
that one day
we will come back for it.

We go as far away as possible
And like the house, we live with strangers,
with fears and worries
we gradually lose our voices.

Every now and then
we start to talk
about the house
about injustice, unfairness
and tell everyone how much
we miss and love our house.

The house becomes us
we become the house.


Tags: SOHEILA GHODSTINAT, SOHEILA, GHODSTINAT
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