Poetry

November 26, 2015 Poetry , POETRY / FICTION

By

Sarah Pedramnia

 

 

Filthy Bread

 

 

Oh mamma a loaf of bread dropped on the floor
And I’m in the wheelchair
Never strong enough to stand up for myself;

 

My feet amputated,
No war
No Kalashnikov,
Congenital amputation
A birth defect;

 

“Bread on the floor,

My breakfast today”

They say life is fair;

 

So simple is this
Just a loaf on the floor. . .
And as I spread the butter and the strawberry jam,
My heart melted
My mouth saliva flew;

 

Many many times you drop the bread
Bend and take it
Yes?
You take it much
for granted I’m afraid
Though;

 

Oh mamma,
It’s thanksgiving eve
And your mistake is my sin
As Eve’s mistake, Adam’s

 

Your minor error for me an obsession
A struggle and
I pay the price,
Look. . .
Look at your son;

 

And you’ve always observed me with sigh and yawn

And pitied

And it’s as if thy pain is much greater than mine;

 

Sometimes it feels I’m the bread,
The loaf on the ground!
Filthy ground,
Filthy bread,
And
My filthy existence
You see me at all?

 

Oh mamma,
Have you ever asked
The reason for my being or bread’s on the floor
Other than torturing each of us?

 

Mamma,
You go to the dining room
Dining table tonight,
Hands off my bread
Let me get the lesson as you sigh for

“Yourself”

And maybe about the “Kalashnikov!”

Let me figure out about

Me,

Your unconditional love, trouble

and

“Life”;

 

“Kings’ thrones
Savage workers”
Their longings and their prayers
None,
My Business
Not even Yours!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sarah Pedramnia

I was born in 1983 in Tehran, Iran. I grew up in a family with humanist values and beliefs and was three when we realized that I was epileptic and was twelve when I realized that I have more to do than a normal person to be able to stand in society.

In 2009 I went to university and studied English Translation and am working on my thesis for a Masters. I have been working on poetry writing and fiction as a freelance writer and undertake complimentary literature studies.

I have approximately 50-80 poems in Persian and a few poems in English. I consider myself not as a professional English poet but with good potential and some good English poems.

I started writing two novels in Persian last year, ’10 days in love’ and ‘Two days in Paris’ and may just turn them into scripts.
Along with poetry, I am writing a story in English ‘The Lady Lavender’ which is a story of the conflicts and life of a woman in the 1970s, not accepted by society due to certain circumstances. Her name was chosen by the process of making Lavender Oil, in which you should first cut the sprigs and then let them dry. It was after my divorce three years ago that my perception radically changed and most of my works reflect my own life and challenges faced in my country as a member and in life as a woman.

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