The Familiar Stranger
     by Sara Solaimani

Oh, foolish man
Did I not come to mind
As you drenched your liver in alcohol
And filled your lungs with smoke?

They have endless stories to tell
Endless pictures to show
Still, the temporary sense of pride I feel
Will never fill this empty heart

Could you not have waited
Just a few more months for me
Your first granddaughter?

They tell me you went peacefully
I never understood this
How could you?
How, knowing we would never meet?

But rest in peace; be content
I have no wrath for you
I remember, Baba Shaffi
The first and last words you said to unborn me
Through the telephone receiver my mother set on my little world…

Life is shorter than you think, little one

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Poem Copyright © 1998 Sara Solaimani


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