* I Mask, Therefore I am

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As wondrous as a point without co-ordinates......
across the broken axes of time, place and thoughts,
Like a kite which has lost its link with the earth,
I am finding different paths across the sky.

On a circle, the starting point is the end,
And the end is the beginning.
And the square root of the negativity

of the number of my thoughts
is still to be found.

It is me who is missing
I open the window and look at the infinity........
................To the clouds and the greens..........
................To the sky which is bright,......although there is no sun
The sound of the wings of the butterfly

which is searching for freedom is echoing around the window.

It is me who is missing
I take the mirror down,

dust its eyes and look into them,
But no face I recognise.

Who am I?
Where am I?
Where is that hiding place?
Where is that shelter?
In the depth of the loneliness of this mobile flesh,

a disguise of a life is living.

It is me who is missing
I call upon my clothes, which were hanging in their coffins.
They witness my being, but no acknowledgement is made.
Where am I?
Where have I gone?
To what dimension?
To what sphere?
What time?

I open the window and look at the sky which is pouring with light,

though there is no sun.

I light a candle in the memory of the sun
and call myself by name,
The space becomes saturated with its echo..........
Yet no reply is heard.
Where am I?
Who am I?
From which book?
Which dictionary?
What statistic?

The butterfly has sold the pride of freedom to a dream of flight,

while denying the detention of a life's ambition.

and the airplane,
breaking the law of gravity,
escaping from the natural imprisonment of the earth,
has now delivered me from the womb of my mother land,
through a painful experience,
into an unknown world,
which promising a new birth…

And now, I am an alien from a strange planet,
who upon hearing her own name,
Her ears do not ring any more,
Her face does not turn back,
Neither do her tears run,
remembering her old memories.

Now, on the steep hill of tomorrow…
with looted hands…
with vandalised hopes…
in a stormed city
I learn to be happy by following one day after another…

“I have succeeded…
I’ve registered myself by a name in a certificate of Naturalization…
So glory be to 175208.
Now, I can write on175208 bills…
And on 175208 application forms…
Parvaneh Farid”
I mask, therefore I am…
.
Parvaneh Farid http://www.latelierpapillon.co.uk/

.

The words inside the quotation mark are inspired by a poem by Forough Farrokzad, "The Land of Jewels".

To watch & listen to this writing in a form of an art video, please click on this link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zi12O0gAe9s&feature=user