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Women unlocking mysteries

Article Submitted By: BashkaJacobs
Date: Tue, 21 May 2013 Time: 1:30 AM

felucca's slice through  the Nile

the same boats that

the  Egyptian Gods

took  to their afterlife


not far away


 Shisha Water pipes



the exhale a cinnamon  haze

curls and   fills the air

The water is clear

 and bubbles

The mona lisa smiles

 are on wrinkled faces

Enjoying a quiet moment

Away from husband and relative

Prying eyes

 their abas

Like a black pool of water at their feet

Their almond eyes sing stories

 that wish to be told


Far away on the red china sea

The women in their sanpans

Change flags as they float into different boundary waters

they change their attire putting on the simple blue

everyone wears

they rub off the color they are one of the

thousand drops in the ocean


that remembers their



Still further away

Half naked old women of Varanasi

Bathe themselves in the Ganges The Holy River

Next to a bloated dead cow

Yet they live

Eek out a living with a few paisa

that they offer to the white pasted sadhus


with gnarled hands

 that have turned into claws



In London  Other

Arab women shift

themselves like their sisters

in their home country

 they smoke shisha as well

Their faces uncovered

they are young

and under their aba a satin

dress and heels ignite

 their spirit

and some day they

will vote and drive



jump backward



I fall in line with the female Israeli soldiers

I am invisible they laugh and play

paint toes talk fast

so I do not understand everything

but we all know

going into battle they could die.


I have gone far from Brooklyn

And found myself


Cooking over Chula stoves in south India

Grinding peppers in a mortar in Goa


Looking for herbs in the Himalayas

Finding blue mushrooms

That turn yellow from the forests

Outside Chamba Valley

Eating Mo Mo ‘s from the ladies

With aprons

In the Tibetan tent


in Bodh Gaya


Listening to their gossip


Walking around

saying prayers and moving

the prayer wheel


i have learned to dry pumpkin seeds

and slit their thin skin

with my fingernail

by an old Iraqi woman

i have roasted an eggplant over

 an open fireon Bezalel street

carefully peeling away its

burnt skin

from a survivor

of the concentration camps

who had hollow eyes but

knew how to cook


i have held the other side of the pot

and emptied a huge soup

with a Brahmin cook


and learned to stir galangal

into a broth by

a fat ibu in Indonesia


laid frangapani on doorsteps in bali

and wore an invisible head dress


that was taller then any door

for Tibetan teachings


unlatching the doors

of mysteries when i found them


i learned to rest

and be nourished

by the smallest of things

and the most wonderful stories

that went beyond any traces of time.


i am aware now of my

own mortality

and i rush to write everything down

while i still remember

so i can enjoy them

yet again.

About the Author

the crow likes goat cheese

harissa and pomegrante molasses

capers and sparkly things

but not all together.

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3: gods galore!
4: Women unlocking mysteries
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6: crow remembering
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8: The crow cooks from Brooklyn to Bombay
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Submitted: Tue, 21 May 2013 Time: 1:30 AM