"Ay, age seven
Ay, the magnanimous moment of departure
Whatever happened after you,
happened in a mesh of insanity and ignorance." - Forugh Farrokhzad
I remember when my father read to me
From the He-Man action-figure comic books
Father never bent over far enough
to read the English,
then I put 2 and 2 together:
Farsi was all that was framed for him
I enjoyed the story as it went along
(no matter what language it was in)
You never know what mood he'd bring home
And what the picture book
would say to me through him.
He translated in his own way
Not by the text but by the way the pictures looked
With each scene he went along
And me demanding:
"Daddy read to me, read to me"
but he always made up an exciting composition
Filled with sword fights and magic carpets
But in this US setting
the carpets were a dead give-away
But it was all out of love and nothing more.
I love my Father for the sacrifices he made
late night tired and reading
In his own way
It still was worthy because it stood for love.
Besides, who am I to be so picky?
Daddy is the careful-King.
Perhaps life is a boy returning home from school.