Poetry

Behind the Steel Web – by Jason Eslamieh

the sound of flapping fish in a dry ocean

the sound of death

crackling mud under the burning sun

suffocating by air when air is death

the vicious cycle, perpetual motion

the cycle with no beginning, the cycle with no end

the sun is broken and night is falling,

the mud is dry: cups full of empty

holding my breath to hear life

all I could hear was the sound of flapping fish

blackened sky, no moon, not even a star

the sound of thunder echoes in my head, no lightening, silent rain

falling water on dry mud

breaking the silence, smell of life

the color of rainbow dancing on the waves

words of colors in black and white

fry emerging as a thousand fish

semen in the pool: regeneration

looked above as if the answers would be in the sky

broken pages of the scriptures

floating above, dancing in mid air

the secrets were in the words and

the words had no meanings

in my dream eyes wide open

the meaning of life, the purpose of death

a few broken words

as if written for a play

the essence of perpetual motion,

life or matter, evolution

no heaven, no hell 

no beginning, no end

I crumpled the pages

and it dawns on me,

the meaning of life

is in my hands

Last night I visited Hafez in Shiraz

The moon was full but hidden behind the clouds

Waited with his book in my hand

Thumbed the pages all night

He showed up late, drunk and disillusioned

I asked; have you found your lover in paradise?

Laughter broke the silence

A few words danced crossed the pages

As his shadow walked into the clouds, he chanted his favorite song

I met God when I found myself

Disillusioned, needed more

Took the journey up to the heaven

Found heaven empty and the angels dead

So, I tell you my friend

When you find yourself, you have found god

A few strands of hair on his chin

An early sign of puberty

Boy to man

His head is buzzed, clean, and perfectly round

Holding back his smile, no clue why

The call to heaven, no questions asked

His younger brother standing by the doorway

Eyes wide open, gazing no where

His father standing a few feet away, eyes glazed over

His mother kisses him goodbye tears rushing down

She looks up in the sky to the heaven above

She sees more sky 

Searching for heaven, believed it was somewhere beyond the color blue where God is watching over her son.

Under his white cotton shirt buttoned up to his neck

A bomb wrapped around his waist.

His jacket covers him good in the chilly afternoon

He walks away with an older man who told him of the myth

A free pass to heaven, the virgins, and eternity with god.

They blend in with the crowd in the busy downtown

He hops onto a crowded bus, his uncle stays behind

He sits down on the cold metal bench 

Too shy to look up to see the children, women, or elderly

Sitting across the aisle

Lives he holds in the palms of his hands

Shattered glass, the sounds of screams, and smoke rising to the sky

Same place his mother looked and saw heaven, angels, and God

Some myths are as beautiful as the unicorn, others kill like God

Every Thursday after school

I walk to my grandma’s

Kicking every rock laying in the alley on my way

The last pebble stands on its feet and whispers: you are here! 

I softly curse and open the door

The sound of screech

Brings back in me the good boy I need to be

Painted smile, obedience and a dash of charm

Hide the war as nothing is wrong

I sit on the floor holding one knee to my chest

Chanting the Koran with rhythms and

Swaying motions that never end

My thoughts wander to the forbidden land

Where boys question without punishment

Where silence begs the truth in my head

My eyes miss a word or two and my chanting stops

My body still in motion

The long pomegranate stick cuts the air in half

I see my hand pulls back

Just a tad too slow, the pain rushes in my head

Tears fill my eyes

My Pride fights the gravity

The words are blurry running across the page

The pomegranate stick cuts the air

No tear drops on the page

Grandma is long gone and half a century passed

I learned the Koran, words of hollow and foreign sounds

I still see the bruises on my hands

Dreams of the pomegranate stick haunt me every night but free at last

Her seven children packed in a one-room hut

Quiet with no movement, scraps on the ground

The baby in a hammock, mended sheets and palm fronds

The oldest, nine, standing by the window, a hole in the wall 

Gazing into the bushland looking over the thin line

Where land meets the sky

The deadly silence so loud 

Broken by the sound of boots pounding near- in the distance

Dust rises, dirt in the sky

Fifteen men in camouflage 

One kicks the door in 

Roomful of bodies, eyes glowing in the dark

Fear sucks out the air and for a moment everyone knows what is to come

The baby screams with more courage

Than all fifteen in camouflage

She stands up, reaching for her baby

A hand crosses the room, grabs her by the hair

Shredded sheets and broken fronds,

No more screams, not even a peep

Her back hits the ground, the sound of shame echoes fifteen times

Forever in her mind

Five children packed in the corner, one is gone

No one looks, no one talks 

The baby holding her breath

Color purple, eyes wide open

As the sun sinks into the earth

He comes home

He knows what has happened, no words escape any mouth

She finds herself out

Out of her home

Home she made for so long

Husband she loved, children she raised

Strangers in the dark

Night is falling, hyenas roaming in the distance

She lays on her side holding onto her knees

She whispers: God

Silence replies: you are all alone, close your eyes.

I cracked open the door to see behind the dark wall

Who plays and screams and how the story ends

I hear the night whispers and the dark shadows;

the heart of the righteous ones

I see deception, lies and injustice

I see the men of cloth holding a black book,

strands of beads and naked from the waist down

I saw innocence lost and heard the scream fall

Deadly silence wrapped in shame

Feet dangling from the sheet soiled by the cloth

I thought there would be angels coming and Gabriel to save

I saw nothing, no one came

Feet dangling

The all-powerful, Created the world in seven days 

All forgiving, all kind

Created hell, vengeance for man

Floods the world to massacre life

Life, he can create no more

Noah saves a few

Stories and legends

Logos and mythos

Soon imbedded in our souls

Facts and fiction merging in delusion

Intelligent design, excuse for answers

I am suspicious