Neda was deeply touched. Would her life be like her mother even though she thought not? She wanted to help, to say something, to almost plead to be left alone; but none was possible. She was bounded to her mother forever! Mehri was her mom. Her problems, misery, and unhappiness all were hers, too. But nothing could come out of her mouth to ease her mother's pain even if it was temporary.
A lucid tenderness suddenly painted Neda's face. She got up from her bed and took a few steps to get to her mother, who was still standing at the foot of the bed. They hugged, something both needed so much. However, none of them knew the answer to Mehri's predicament and in fact the dilemma that entire family was forced to endure because of Jalal's second marriage.
"Mom, I don't know what to say. But I won't let you suffer. Things will change. I know it. When I have my book published, then I have money and I can save you!"
Mehri sighed:
"Oh, sweet heart, you live in a dream world. I just wish you have better luck than I did!"
"No, mom, this can't happen to me. I'm strong. I change things."
Mehri smiled bitterly. At that moment she was envious to her ideologist daughter. She wished she had her daughter's efficacy. She left the room as quietly as she had entered.
Neda sat immediately behind her desk to write a poem. The idea just came to her. She had no problem composing it or looking for the right words; for she was clearly fed up with life, their lives. She named it, "Purity". It seemed to her that their lives had changed to an impure and poisonous water, one of the most important element for staying alive, by her father's disgrace:
"The warmth had left sun:
Blessing from earth had gone;
Birds had died in their hearth;
Grass had died on earth;
Earth had refused the dead
From being buried in its bed.
Night had been in uproar,
Like a suspicious vision, nothing more.
And a decision roads had made;
to abandon their continuation ahead.
And people...
Depressed, suspicious and numb;
Traveled far places like dumb,
Carrying their dead bodies in scum.
Perhaps there are still some half dead exist,
Who want to ignore debasement and resist;
Who want desperately to believe
The purity is the last breath life can give."
To Be Continued
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