Questions
cascade like bats escaping from mountain caves at dusk
cascade like water down a gorge after a monsoon rain
Questions
in her three languages
like possibilities on a pallet,
they combine
until there is one language remaining
to answer
Questions
the soul emits
after shrouded by a veil for so long,
a human soul seeking identity,
longing to know the delicate curves of her shoulders,
struggling to see the canals of rhythm
passing down her legs-
river of tabla-fire-dancing-
wishing to know the color of her eyes
she was not permitted to notice,
breaking through the armor of mistrusted centuries
recalling the simple rise and fall of her breasts,
the wonder of the soul,
a passionate soul,
pulsating from ancient places of Womanhood,
inheriting wisdom and joy from those who emerged before
Questions,
chimes and bells heard for the first time as answers,
like chords of mysterious half-notes
played in a foreign key
signatures composed in an uncountable time:
Who am I?
Does balance exist?
May I now be permitted to smell those flowers growing all around me?
Am I now at last to sip the nectar of my imagination?
Who am I?
What is this new life?
And who are you?
May I be permitted to celebrate my soul?
Who am I?
Eid!
Tucson, 1992