| Author: | Reza | ISBN: | 9781462011315 |
| Publisher: | iUniverse | Publication: | June 9, 2011 |
| Imprint: | iUniverse | Language: | English |
| Author: | Reza |
| ISBN: | 9781462011315 |
| Publisher: | iUniverse |
| Publication: | June 9, 2011 |
| Imprint: | iUniverse |
| Language: | English |
Within the boundaries of right and wrong, judgment and condemnation, adventure and escapism, we all have a place we need to find so as not to be captured by anothers limited image of us. Author Reza is marking her own pageher temporary place where she stops, pauses, and ruminates. Mark on the Road presents a collection of her poetry that is emotionally introspective. Even when the moments of rumination cease, there are dark spaces within the soul where even the self cannot hide; this is where tangled words creep inside the vines of a sleeping poetic consciousness. Cultural Weight O my country! How bitterly now I remember you! I love my country toonext after all my children. Euripides Id like to say Im one of those Who knows so much about my culture Yet I carry it like a globe across my shoulders Wearing down on my chest, Until I breathe the breath of continents. Id like to know clever ways Of decoding its flaws and assumptions in words Or that Im part of some lofty group condemned, And then lauded for not having a home.
Within the boundaries of right and wrong, judgment and condemnation, adventure and escapism, we all have a place we need to find so as not to be captured by anothers limited image of us. Author Reza is marking her own pageher temporary place where she stops, pauses, and ruminates. Mark on the Road presents a collection of her poetry that is emotionally introspective. Even when the moments of rumination cease, there are dark spaces within the soul where even the self cannot hide; this is where tangled words creep inside the vines of a sleeping poetic consciousness. Cultural Weight O my country! How bitterly now I remember you! I love my country toonext after all my children. Euripides Id like to say Im one of those Who knows so much about my culture Yet I carry it like a globe across my shoulders Wearing down on my chest, Until I breathe the breath of continents. Id like to know clever ways Of decoding its flaws and assumptions in words Or that Im part of some lofty group condemned, And then lauded for not having a home.
