Poems of Hope and Despair

The Lost Parts

I smell my burnt hair
And remember Rosa

Clean sheets dried in the sunshine,
The breath of her young husband
Caraway, dandelions
Fields of Poland
All of it was Rousza’s
All of it and maybe more.
Until the smoke filled her
With the smell of burnt flesh

His right hand quiet and folded
Like a sleeping dove,
I think of this boy in the wheelchair,
Speedy, the eloquent beggar of affections
Who says: I need a hand rub;
Who asks: Can I have a hug?

The way the sun shines on his whole body
Limitless and unrationed
Unlike love.

I rub my mother’s feet
With almond oil and listen.
She tells me what she knows
From her dream where my father, Isaac
Sent her away from the bed saying
He had no patience and no desire for her.
Her death will not be from this accident,
She knows.
She believes him.
Who would believe me?
I thought of these words
In the middle of the earthquake:
“I am not afraid
to be loved
to be loved
to be loved.”

Esther Kamkar, Palo Alto, California artist and poet. Poems, poetry, writing, published works - footer logo

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