What is home?
An original poem.
I recite; I wonder to see four walls arise from the ground to protect me from ills and threats.
A home is where I can give birth to my free self. Home, a mother’s arm, cradle my soul with tenderness.
Home grounds my feet when I jump with triumph and cushion my head when I cry with sorrow.
That’s why I simply utter, “I want to go home,” in any circumstances.
One: it’s morning, another day, whispering to myself. Once my eyes get caught to the digit one on the calendar, they swiftly stimulate the essence of a new month, a new day, a fresh start in my mind, and it was no longer the other day. My intellect engulfs my heart with the word new; my body vibrates vitality and resonates with love. I marvel that only one figure can have such an immense influence on our vision.
Parastu? Present. Parastu, Parastu, Parastu………….
It’s first grade, and the echo of my name resonates across the room. I am curious to know what my name means? Ask my father, “father, can you please define Parastu?” My father collects himself and earnestly states, “Parastu is a bird that conveys the longing of spring. In a distant time, when the cold weather is replaced by warmth, Parastus start appearing on the horizon to fly back home. Once they locate Parastus, men start celebrating the beginning of spring and blossom.”
It has been years since Parastu left home for the ferocious winter and still flys from region to region to call it home and return with the spring.
I think to myself, where is Parastu’s home?
Like Forugh, I plant my wings in the garden of LIFE to blossom ONE LOVE, then I call it HOME and return with spring.
Note: Forugh Farrokhzad was an Iranian poet.
