Day 482.

( <--- I had just sneezed.)

Some Kind Of Poem.

i know of sorrow in torrents.
my heart is bending, learning
how to be with a trickle that may or may not become a stream
weaving between and through
the crocuses and wildflowers.
it picks up some sticks along the way
leaves behind some mud,
smooths rocks,
and sometimes, joined by all the other
tributaries
ends in that warm and wide pool
my young body once slid down a moss slide
and pierced the still surface of,
before languishing on large rocks
baking like pie crust in the gift of the sun.

Day 420.

Last night, I sort of almost started to believe in a force outside of me that was looking out for me. It was a strange thought, an unexpected thing to feel in my body, in my gut, heart, and head.

Day 399.

I am she who holds a wailing lover in the early morning
As his body startles awake and heaves and shakes,
Digesting loss.
I am she whose cunt bleeds on its own terms,
Onto rags stained brown from past expulsions
The cycle, self-determinant, untainted by hormones meant to trick my womb
Into belief of pregnancy.

Day 368.

A Freakout Day in the Life of Mahfam:

Inner Voice: I think I am having a bit of a freakout.
Voice of Love: Oh, sweetheart. What are you freaking out about?

Day 353.

Do you ever feel somebody loving you
Through walls and windows,
Thin orange curtains.
Through a bike ride's worth of distance,

Through the first rains
Of the winter that you thought might never come?

(Everything is mutated, after all.)

Day 346.

This is a comfortable longing. I bite into desire, chew on it, tasting it completely before mindfully swallowing. I lean into longing, allow myself to feel it in my limbs, in my belly, in my cunt. It's okay that it hurts sometimes. The pain lets me know I am still here. It's okay that it feels absolutely delicious and sensuous, too. It's like that song that always makes me cry and for some reason I still like to put it on and move slowly around the room. What freedom, being with what is.

Day 305.

love is a wild onion
revealing its dusty head through earth
its emergence tantalizes you
demands consumption
then
it leaves its stink on you
in you
(emanating from your gut)

Day 287.

Oh, yes
I deserve love
Big expansive ever-regenerating ever-blossoming love
In the face of my ugliest moments
Tenderly cradling me
Stroking my face
Whispering a song
In Farsi, reminding me of
Everything I have seen,
Everywhere I come from.
Everyone I have been.