Young Boy in Iran
.. inspired by a true story ..
traffic froze in the city and i
turned my face to the outside
window rolled all the way down but there's still a wall
a park full of trees flowers children and dogs
ten million people around me
land of my roots my ancestors my bloodline
i saw him there beneath the trees
my age my skin my race
young boy kneeling by a man
wooden box corners black and worn
brushes cloths little containers of wax
handful of sweat earned in coins
big heavy shoes thick moustache eyes closed to joy
a nose that couldn't tell fresh air from bombs
a final sweep of cloth across those glistening shoes
young boy lifts his soft bright face
perhaps tonight he can eat
the nose flares the moustache curls
anger to ashes
a word slices the air
cold hard tip of a glistening shoe
glass shatters
wooden box splinters
brushes cloths little containers of wax
and a handful of coins
shimmering in the sun
exploding
in silence
he won't eat tonight
time froze in the car and i
stared at him and he
turned my way and he
looked straight at me my eyes my soul
young boy kneeling in the park
full of trees flowers children and dogs
all at play
all in play
he turned my way and he
saw his brother his own
other life
my mouth curled and i
wanted to scream but couldn't and i
wanted tears but had none and i
wanted to make it right but how and i
didn't want to laugh but i did
a sour giggle fermenting in the air
dripping distressed
its aftertaste still there forever
the traffic released and i
took a breath and he
turned into me
to make wine you need grapes to ferment
to ignite a life you need a gut to turn sour
guilt only paints those who see
life is alchemy
turn pain into purpose
no need for windows if you have no walls
young boy kicks a wooden box
straight over a big man's head
—birgitte rasine
13 october 2018
