The Flower Raj Articles

Welcome Guest

Search:

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

but

not far away

 

 Shisha Water pipes

 

blaze

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

eye

 

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

 while

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.


Rating: Not yet rated

Comments

No comments posted.

Add Comment

You do not have permission to comment. If you log in, you may be able to comment.

More in this Category

1: Afghani Bazaar
2: Casablanca Gone East
3: gods galore!
4: Women unlocking mysteries
5: Yellow woman chicken curry Penang style
6: crow remembering
7: A days walk up the street
8: The crow cooks from Brooklyn to Bombay
9: Latches to be opened
10: widows of varanasi

View Options & Stats

View PDF | Print View
Total views: 6810
Word Count: 500
Submitted: Tue, 21 May 2013 Time: 1:30 AM