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ON BEAUTY – Vida Kazemi

on February 20 | in Poetry | by | with No Comments

1

This La Jolla morning resembles dusk.

           Instead of rising, I am setting

trapped in ever-dusk.

Names of months are all I see

           of winter. A season-less sky

over the same scenes.

I don’t worry about slipping on ice,

           walk long distances along the shore

and dine outdoors.

           Yet, one grim day deflates me.

Remembering snowflakes nestled

           on my window in Cambridge

or glistening in moonlight

           leaves me unmoved.

My birthplace, Tehran, had a sunny climate

           Snow sparkled a few days, and melted.

Clouds were floating blessings.

           Have I grown numb to beauty?

2

Walking to my winter home on a sunny day,

           I smile as I stroll past boutiques

offering Brazilian waxing, European facials,

           hair and nail extension, anti-aging treatment.

I see a large sign on a window:

           True Beauty Plastic Surgery

WE BELIEVE THAT BEAUTIFUL  IS ALSO GOOD

                            Barely twenty-four, when a bank teller

                                      saw my passport picture and exclaimed:

                            What happened to you? At forty I told friends

                                     I’m done trying to be tall, thin and blond.

                            At home, I share the elevator

                                      with a manicured older woman

                            hair coiffed, high heels

             dressed up in a designer suit.

           Automatically, I apologize

   for my khakis, sneakers and knapsack.

           To go shopping, I change my attire.

   A neighbor notices: You look good.

           I want to correct her: I am good.

                        3

                        Another day draws me to The Japanese Garden

                                     in Balboa Park.

                        Meticulously crafted, it inspires

                                    reflection on beauty.

                        Cherry blossoms are no longer in full bloom.

                                     A bonsai magenta Camelia,

                        sixty-years-old, adapted to limited space,

                                     looks young.

                           A waterfall gurgles over gigantic rocks

                                     and flows into a pellucid pond

                            with glistening Koi.

                            I stop to ponder beauty that endures

                                      as my past expands

                            and furrows on my face deepen.

Vida Kazemi was born in Tehran, Iran. She came to the US decades before the Revolution, but has visited Iran regularly to see family. Many of her poems reflect her bi-cultural experience. She is a retired psychologist living in Cambridge, Mass. Her poems have been published in Leon, Croton and Nelligan Reviews, Lily Poetry Review, and Common Ground Review.

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