Hope is the delusion of the oppressed.
It is buzzards watching, waiting in the trees,
laughing.

Taste the honey on your tongue
avocado, dark brown
clover, golden
so many shades, textures
sweetness
pleasure
Feel the breeze caress your cheeks
bringing scents
honeysuckle
lilacs
peach blossoms
pleasure
Touch the silken fabric of your scarf
wind softness around you
midnight and snow
rainbows
desert sunsets
pleasure
Listen to the birds outside your window
mockingbird love songs
a rapture’s scream
the whir of hummingbird wings
emerald, indigo, grey
pleasure
Look at flowers blooming everywhere
crimson bougainvillea
roses, sunshine colors
pale pink, vermillion
beauty
pleasure
Sing a song of Gratitude

I am a bit behind so decided to share three poems I wrote more than ten years ago about my favorite animal obsession, pumas. These poems were first published in my poetry memoir, On the Rim of Wonder, which is available on Amazon and Barnes and Noble.
I
My neighbor walked out her door
found a puma lying in the lawn.
Puma rose, stretched, disappeared.
At night when I open my gate
I wonder if she lurks
behind the cedar trees,
Pounce ready.
My daughter dreams puma dreams:
a puma chases her up a tree.
There are no trees here big enough to climb.
A Zuni puma fetish guards my sleep.
I run with puma
Night wild
Free.
I scream and howl
Moonstruck
Bloodborn.
I hike the canyon,
stroll around my house,
look for puma tracks.
I see none.
I would rather die by puma
than in a car wreck.
II
I watch for eyes, blue changing to amber and back.
I put my palm, fingers stretched to measure, into the footprint.
Too small, bobcat.
No puma.
My thin body squeezes between the rocks,
climbing quietly down the cliff.
Watching, listening, searching.
No puma.
Pale amber rushes across my vision line.
My heart quakes.
I watch; I wait.
It is Isabella, a golden whir chasing rabbits.
No puma.
At sunrise, I walk the rim,
watching.
At sunset, I walk the rim,
waiting.
At night, I walk the rim,
dreaming.
No puma, not yet.
III
I want
to walk
with you
in my dreams
scream your screams
feel your blood
rushing
your heartbeat
mine
soft golden fur
wound in my hair
your amber eyes
glowing
through my brown
death defying
together walking
moonlit
wild
free

Note: My puma obsession continues. This painting and several others of pumas hang in my house. I now have two puma Zuni fetishes. I hike in the mountains hoping to see one in the wild.
I.
Why
and
What
draws me
to
witches
herbal secrets
moonlight
night riding
ancient ruins
and
archaic codes.
It is the Goddess blood I carry,
remembrance of a past
when women ruled
when peace reigned
and ALL were healed.
II.
Woman, wondrous, wild
daughter of the moon,
mysterious, magnificent
fierce secret keeper
guardian of the universal key.

Note: These poems were originally published in my book of poetry, “On the Rim of Wonder”, available online at Barnes and Noble and Amazon.
“She was Christian but American Christian, the kind that believed Jesus just needed a bigger gun”–part of the description of the main character’s rich, not dentist mom rich but oil, trust fund rich, blue-eyed, blond girlfriend. Cyrus, the main character is an Iranian American whose father immigrated to the US when Cyrus was a baby after Cyrus’ mom was killed when the US shot down an Iranian passenger plane thinking it was a bomber (July 1988). His dad acquires a job at a Midwestern chicken farm, counting eggs, but special eggs. This farm breeds chickens to grow faster to get to market faster. He works six days a week, long hours, until Cyrus, who excelled in elementary and high school, becomes a sophomore in college. Suddenly, his dad dies.
Cyrus becomes an addict using alcohol and drugs and writes poetry and eventually finishes college. He becomes obsessed with and researches martyrs throughout history–people like Hypatia of Alexandria, Bhagat Singh, Emily Wilding Davison, the Soulit Women. He gets sober and obsessed with his own past. This eventually leads him to travel to Brooklyn to talk to a famous artist whose last exhibit is herself talking to visitors as she dies of cancer. In researching this woman’s paintings, he discovers a strange painting of a young man dressed as an angel whose job as a soldier is to ride at night with a flashlight through the fields of the dead and dying Iranian soldiers consoling them during the Iran/Iraq War. Cyrus knows that his mom’s brother had this actual job during that war and wonders can there be a possible the connection.
Throughout these events the reader is lead to not only explore Cyrus’ thoughts and beliefs but also those of his father, mother, uncle, and best friend, Zee. It is rare for a novel to be both heart wrenching and funny. Akbar accomplishes this task. One moment I found myself laughing out loud and the next almost in tears. I could not stop reading even though the paperback is long. Perhaps my knowing something about Iranian culture, food, etc. helped me appreciate some of the book more than I might have otherwise. Nevertheless, this is a universal story about love, discovering oneself, relationships, parenthood, human nature. It is definitely worth taking the time to read.

On this new day in a new year
I want you to promise yourself to
-laugh when you see the sunrise
-dance in the moonlight even if you
think you cannot dance
-remember your best day ever, then
make a new best day
-hug your loved ones, tell them you
love them
-walk in nature, touch a flower.
A new year brings no promises.
The world contains too much violence, hate.
Yet you, yes, you your precious self
can transform the world,
project joy where you think there is none,
bring laughter somewhere, sometime,
reach out to others,
send positive vibrations into the universe.
You can make a difference,
make the world a better place.

Tis the season to…
Feel joy when the morning
sun caresses your face;
Laugh when you hear
children playing in the
street;
Give thanks for being alive,
having friends and family;
Walk down your street or
take a hike, touch a flower,
a tree and appreciate nature’s
simple bounties;
Remember the time your
loved one took your face
in gentle hands and smiled;
Give the gift of kindness,
peace, and compassion to everyone,
strangers, friends, family,
the unknown;
Promise yourself to live your
best self in the year to come,
to never forget that life
is a gift.

What would your life be like if you did not age like everyone else? How would others treat you, your family? Would they kill your mother because they think she is a witch? Could you love someone who grew old while you stayed young? Would you have to move all over the world to avoid detection?
These are the issue the narrator faces because unlike ordinary people, he does not age normally. At the beginning he is living in London as a forty-one year old history teacher but has been alive for centuries. He’s met Shakespeare, travelled the oceans with Captain Cook, and played piano at clubs in Paris.
One organization, the Albatross Society, hunts down and “protects” people like him. Their leader has one rule: do not fall in love. He is also convinced that certain groups want to find these non-agers and imprison them for research. What is factual, real? Does life have meaning without love?

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