Her strong smile
dark brown eyes
and endless power as the matriarch.
she “allowed” me to leave
when I was just a boy.
I still remember
my mom’s worried eyes
watching me leave
it’s been more than a decade now,
since the day I have left,
and we all knew that I am not going back.
everything has changed
I have lived many lives since that day
and died many deaths.
In a desert covered with dollar bills and oil spills on the Persian Gulf,
or on a communist bus in Turkey,
(Oh how beautiful are the revolutionaries with their beards, green coats, hats with a red star, Das Kapital in their pocket, and
pack of tobacco, and fierce eyes)
I have danced with many lives
and kissed deaths mouths a few times
after every time I talk to her on the phone
after a long chat about the world or family affairs
current state of economy
and how she think I should read Anna Karenina
or why I should be a lawyer
right before she hangs up
“Look both ways before crossing the street”