Something Has Left My Body

by Farzana Marie | Mar 17, 2015 | Poetry | 0

For K.E.

I leave the house
where the two-month-old writhes from his polio shot,
yells as if he knows the meaning of the word
abandonment
and I know that I am working
for all of our rights
but sit at my desk and think
of his tiny fingernails
that I finally cut for the first time,
think how he already smiles
when I say mama loves you.

This giving birth, this singing of lullabies
cannot be less, cannot be other than art:
it stretches the skin
changes the voice
opens the heart
keeps you up at night
fills you with liquid skill to nourish.

Just like when I write a poem—
as Forugh said it once—
I feel something has left my body.

Photo By: LMAP

About The Author

Farzana Marie

Farzana Marie is a poet and PhD candidate at the University of Arizona, where she studies Persian Literature and Creative Writing. Farzana’s poetry and translations have appeared in print and on-line journals including The Rusty Nail, Adanna, Fourteen Hills, When Women Waken, Zócalo, Antiphon, Guernica, Atticus Review, The Fourth River, and others. She is the author of the nonfiction book, Hearts for Sale! A Buyer's Guide to Winning in Afghanistan (Worldwide Writings, 2013), a poetry chapbook Letters to War and Lethe (Finishing Line Press, 2014), and a book of Persian Dari poetry in translation, Load Poems Like Guns: Women's Poetry from Herat, Afghanistan (Holy Cow! Press, 2015). She is president of Civil Vision International and can be found on Twitter @farzanamarie.

Something Has Left My Body

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About The Author

Farzana Marie

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