Here is a recording of my new poem ‘Longing and Belonging’ which won runner up prize in The Diaspora Festival Poetry competition judged by poet
@mileshiltonchambers (Bristol poet laureate) and poet ShaguftaIqbal.
First time I’ve ever sent in a poem for a competition so it’s given me a little bit more confidence to continue.
Here is the full poem : Longing and belonging By Roxana Vilk
The word belonging has longing carved deep within it.
A longing whispered in the middle of the night - half sung, half spoken as a lullaby, in the ear of my half asleep son.
A longing to take him back to my motherland, woven by invisible threads of Persian songs sung to me as a child by my grandmother.
The shape of the lyrics hang like question marks, illuminated in gold across the Bristol night sky.
‘Mummy when will you take me there?’ His voice echos around the room.
The word belonging has longing sitting, waiting inside it.
To touch the earth.
To inhale that familiar wet dust in the early morning, when the streets are washed clean.
I close my eyes and imagine it tickling my son’s nostrils and making him sneeze. To show him the hot sun dancing across my old childhood balcony, with its view stretching out across Tehran city.
To hold my grandmother in a tight embrace and feel her heart against mine.
To show her my son. Her great grandson.
The word longing, invokes in me a wanting to belong.
A wanting to be rooted, somewhere, anywhere.
To know for sure, deep in my bones, that this is, yes this, is the end of the road. To stop running.
To call this a forever home.
But knowing I will instead be forever caught in the trance of this push, this pull.
There is only one word for Love in English.
In Farsi there are so many I run out of fingers.
I split the English word love wide open and one by one pour all the Farsi words in.
Stir it like a Persian Aubergine stew.
I hear my grandmother say,
“ Aziz e delam, don’t forgot the salt.’
Thanks as always to my writing teacher & sista
@kaminmohammadi 🙏🏽
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