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Showing posts from November, 2017

Between pages

Between the pages number seven and nine, snug between familiar names is mine.
I have a page.
A page that feels velvety underneath my fingers that flutter like butterflies looking for nectar.
A page,
milk coloured between number seven and nine, each laced in black.
I was number 27 but most others did not find much hope in writing.
So I became,
the white page between number seven and nine, each laced in black.
I repeat myself.
Number seven and nine, each laced in black.
I repeat myself.
Number seven and nine...
black
lace.

My fingers looking for nectar, tracing invisible velvet lines. The nectar of days past
when I was just a page between...
For us who did find hope cuddled up between numbers and pages life had other things in mind.
I mean,
there's not really that much hope anymore
for numbers seven and nine.

My grandmother, Aphrodite

We would dance in the kitchen, wrapped up in the smell of boiled vine leafs. My grandmother and I.
We would start the days arguing. "Sadik, - she would say, at seven in the morning, - the world has not seen such spoiling of a child. Let her be cold. Let her dress herself for heaven's sake."
And so we would go on for years. Two heads of wavy chestnut hair and dark round eyes, always in conflict. Two stubborn heads, fiery heads, proud heads.
We would dance around the kitchen. Me, my grandma, my mum and my aunt, each taking turns to waltz around the house with my granddad.
My grandmother, was not like all the other grandmothers, soft and sweet and naive. She reminded me of the two headed eagle stamped vividly on the red flag of our country. Strong, eyes piercing the life of me. I could, I cannot lie to my grandma.
One look and I am undone, solved like the most simple puzzle. Her dark eyes, pierce the life of me.
Her dark eyes seemed to skip the fact that I had a face and ev…