Fingers slender, white and hot
with mushes of hair
ran its meandered course
through a trespassed terrain.
My breath held back in aghast
turned my body cold
Alert I stood
in a forced helplessness
with legs stretched, arms spread
and underarms in sweat.
My young son looked through
the tinted glass.
His mother had turned into a doll
in this officer's hands.
The man's fingers disappeared into
cream laces of a halter neck
The search spread into contours deep where treasures of
a lifetime were hid.
Each second of that touch
felt sharper than a thousand tigers' claws.
He patted my butt
"Search over."
I raised my face to the sky.
The blackness of my skin
confronted the blackness of the clouds.
I cried out loud
in bolts of absorbed indignity
piercing the deepest jungles of Amazon.
"I am black
born black
but I bleed red
hemoglobin red
......................
.....................
.....................
not black
my tears are colourless
....................
....................
not black
...................
Let me stop and search
God, are you black or white?"
with mushes of hair
ran its meandered course
through a trespassed terrain.
My breath held back in aghast
turned my body cold
Alert I stood
in a forced helplessness
with legs stretched, arms spread
and underarms in sweat.
My young son looked through
the tinted glass.
His mother had turned into a doll
in this officer's hands.
The man's fingers disappeared into
cream laces of a halter neck
The search spread into contours deep where treasures of
a lifetime were hid.
Each second of that touch
felt sharper than a thousand tigers' claws.
He patted my butt
"Search over."
I raised my face to the sky.
The blackness of my skin
confronted the blackness of the clouds.
I cried out loud
in bolts of absorbed indignity
piercing the deepest jungles of Amazon.
"I am black
born black
but I bleed red
hemoglobin red
......................
.....................
.....................
not black
my tears are colourless
....................
....................
not black
...................
Let me stop and search
God, are you black or white?"
Farah...this is amazing stuff...girl,really loved its feel...touching and stunning..grt...really grt!!!
ReplyDeleteLiz...thanx a lot dear..ur comments make me feel proud!!!
Deletefeel proud Fa...the way the lady in this poem holds herself at that moment and later bursts into "bolts of absorbed indignity" is really touching and choking...just reading it again and again...lovin it more and more...girl...u r promising!!!
ReplyDeleteThanx Liz sweetheart...:)u too make me feel proud...:)
DeleteThis reminds me of the scene in the film 'Crash' where the black women is forcefully searched while her husband remains painfully helpless..
ReplyDeleteThough its a good work I wouldn't say, it is one of your best.. I am not here attempting to 'evaluate' your poetic vision, nor should I comment on your personal feelings towards a very sensitive issue, rather I would sincerely like to appreciate you on your attempt.. But what I am concerned is about your artistic spirit loosing out to your personal feelings..
In the process of explicitly dealing with a sensitive issue (which have also been taken up many artists in different perspectives), you missed out on your subtle side.. I think in your earlier works there is an unassuming, destereotyped vision which, I think, is your greatest strength as a creative artist.. By unassuming destereotyped vision, what i mean is those little defamiliarisations that you lend to your images (often in perspectival differences embodied in child characters).. may be if you could give more attention towards your creative strengths, then it would sure lend more power to your creative outputs..
Gudness me...ur comment itself is worth a new post in ma blog....was reading ur comments agn n agn to undrstnd wht it actually meant...k...
ReplyDeletept 1 justified....even i had dt scene frm crash in ma mind...i jus came across an article where i read abt dis problem....so thot shd just put it in wrds...
about it bein a failed attempt....disappointd to knw dt ....but still...i accept it..artistic spirit lost? i jus wantd to give it a free flow as it came...hmmm...n abt d next para....sounded very much like a literary theory paper....GOd....'destereotyped','defamiliarisations'...i dont kno if i hav got them in their fullness n complexity....
but i'll work on it....
thanx a lot Aravind...:)
Farah…:) Let me STOP and SEARCH :)
ReplyDeleteWhat came to my mind first was a doubt ‘’why this theme?’’..for it has been something we had cme across many a time .But honestly, I ws captured by the images u employed ..in fact I felt them within myself..”visual poetry’’ indeed !!!
Loved the way the poem gathered momentum….and the gaps you left…amazing feel they carry :) ...cntnue wrtn..
thanx dear...ur comments really make me happy..:)) i know its an overused theme...n dont thnk its ny diffrnt frm d rest..bt feels gud to knw dt smwhre it has gathered momentum n has touched u...:)
ReplyDelete:)) ..hey actually i don't have any complaints with the ''overused theme" :) i don't think it loses its significance owing to overuse or whatever (though i had that doubt in d beginning):)
ReplyDeletein fact i dint see it as a usual poem on a 'victimized black woman ''
it speaks more, i guess..:)