There was only one hope to reach the other side; but for that she was forced to push her way to the front of all those machines, filled with people, drove by bearded men and walked along them more people. Then men that they were on feet, mostly wearing army fatigue and dirty boots; they all had this latest fashion of not shaving, or bathing. One thing was so apparent that they had stolen their military fatigue, boots and weapons when they had broken into military bases; when very low level soldiers had joined their cause. They all screamed nonsense. And they all yelled at her. She didn't look a type to be there. "A little more, just a little more!" She said to herself.
Reality of being there, something she had avoided all these months of Revolution was shocking to her. The smell of the crowd and the heat of being in such a close proximately made her very uneasy. Suddenly she felt an unseasonable fieriness rushing into her body. She took her gloves out and put them in her coat pocket. She felt the pressure of people pushing her from all around. Her purse fell off her shoulder; however she was able to catch it before it hit the ground. She looked around; no woman was carrying purse. She thought perhaps they had stuffed their pockets with their things. Some of them had a very small bag hanging from their neck. Oh, if she had known. People now were pushing her hard. She guessed that there was something about the way she was dressed, they did not like. She was wearing a medium heel designer shoes, an angora coat, and her bag was a designer bag. She began pushing people hard, too. "If you don't like me, I don't like you either." Somewhere, not far, she heard a blast of a shooting. It sounded like a fire cracker. Who were they shooting at? She did not know.
Suddenly a vision came to her, a sight of her life, past life, a view of her actions, her parents, her brother, Maryam, Aria, her marriage at age sixteen to a man twenty years older than her. She wondered why did people act they way they do? What was the motive behind one's deed? As different mental images marched in front of her eyes, she found herself still in the middle of the street. She had not been able to move even one step to the direction she aimed for. She even noticed that she was moved by the force to the direction that she did not... "What is all these brawls?" Her mind suddenly went to her past; however at the sight of her past, she remembered a poem she had written, entitled,"Revolution". She began reciting the poem in her speaking mind. She could not forgive herself for a foolish smile which suddenly blossomed on her face. Introspecting the reason of her own smile, she recalled the first time one of her poem was published in a magazine. She was only fifteen then.
"Hearts of trees and flowers dying.
The flower bed is swollen under the sun.
Its mind slowly, slowly is drained of green memories.
Our yard is lonely.
In waiting of rainy loud, our yard is yawning.
And the pond of our yard is empty.
Our yard is lonely.
*
All day the sound of explosion and dying I hear!
In their gardens our neighbors plant Uzis and Kalashnikov in place of flowers.
And their blue, ceramic ponds are the hidden storage of bombs.
School children have filled their school bags with Molotov Cocktail.
Our love is lonely.
*
I fear all these lost hearts.
I fear the strangeness of all these faces.
I am lonely like a student who loves his math too much.
And I think is it possible to take the garden to the hospital?
But I hear all the hospitals are filled with dead.
I think that the heart of earth is swollen under the sun.
And its mind slowly, slowly is drained of green memories.
And I see the student who loved his math too much, is lonely.
And in place of his heart, a red flower is blooming in our yard."
To Be Continued
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