The Boat That Brought Me

by Azita Ghahreman

Behind these eyes that look like mine 
old names are fading away, the past lies crumpled in my clenched fist -
a coppery bird in coppery wind, 
this vast place has covered me from head to toe.
 
I am not stripped of word and thought 
but sometimes what I want to say gets lost
like a moon smudged with cloud, or when I splutter on a drink.
My tongue trips up when I speak of that journey 
though the blood in my veins felt the truth of death. 
As I traced my footsteps through the tracery of my old language 
Summer whispered to me
and my frozen fingers began to put out shoots
even as I began to love the cold ebb and flow of tides. 
 
Sometimes I miss 
the boat that brought me here,
now that I am witness to the icy eyes of a Swedish winter, 
under these tired old clouds,
while that suitcase still holds a patch of the sky-blue me.

The literal translation of this poem was made by Elhum Shakerifar

The final translated version of the poem is by Maura Dooley

Comments

No comments have been made on this poem yet! Why don’t you start us off?