Tag Archive | Shiraz
Floods
Floods in the city of my birth
Floods that could have been prevented
Floods that originate from mistakes
Floods that took the lives of the innocent
Floods that brought destruction and harm
Floods that could be a wake up call
The price has been paid by many lives
Lessons learned are too late for those who died
Kindness a solace for those in need
An occasion for generosity of spirit
March 25th, 2019
Bonds that bind
Another connection
Another bond of friendship
The fruit of us being together
So many years ago
In the beautiful city of Shiraz
Shiraz, from where some of us scattered
Around the world
Each going on a journey of self discovery
And now we come together
Having experienced life
With its ups and downs
Its joys and sorrows
We come together
With increased understanding
And renew and strengthen
These bonds
That were formed so many years ago
March 17th
With Farideh and Payam
Dancing street
Dancing street is
Where I lived at in Shiraz
It was actually called
Ghasr’u’dast
The palace in the meadow
But we called it Raghs’u’dasht
The dancing street
As a tribute to the multitude
Of potholes that made us dance
It was a long narrow street
That led out of Shiraz
To the tiny town called Ghasr’u’dasht
There, at the end of a
Dead-end street
Called Zargary, the Goldsmith
My father built a house
Which seemed like a palace to me
It had many rooms
And a huge back yard
A large garage
And a multi-coloured gate
At the front
We had many dinner parties
And house-guests
My mother made meals fit
For a king
And we entertained a lot
We had guests from Tehran
The US and Africa
Some were relatives
Some were friends
And some were Baha’is from abroad
I remember walking and singing
In the grassy area of the back yard
And playing with the weeping willows
As I sang songs
This was my childhood home
Until we left Iran
It was off the dancing street
Outside Shiraz
Melancholy
Shiraz
My childhood
My early teens
Traditional Persian music
An underlying sense of sadness
That’s what the music evokes in me
I don’t know why
Somehow I associate it with
Melancholy
Despondency
Something somewhat tragic
Maybe there is a sadness in the
Voices of those who sing
Maybe I just remember sad things
People living difficult lives
Not reaching their potential
Being deprived of freedom
So much wasted potential
And yet they sing
They carry on
What choice have they after all
January 26th, 2018
Back to my roots
Back to my roots
To where I’m from
I left it long ago
When I was young
Back to my roots
To poetry and art
A place where I did not think
I belonged
Back to my roots
To the city of Shiraz
Where nightingales sing
and jasmine thrives
Back to my roots
Back to the East
Where the sun rises
And the day begins
Back to my roots
To the friends I left
To friends who have
Embraced me once again
Back to my roots
And it feels good
To feel grounded
To feel understood
December 13th, 2017
Collage of me
Collage:
Different colors , textures, and shapes
Put together in harmony to create beauty
My life is a collage of sorts
Various countries, languages
And cultures have shaped me
The base of this collage is created
With earth tones
Colors that stand for the desert, the valley and
The bare mountains of Shiraz
The city of poets, roses and nightingales
The city I come from
Over the earth tones are other colors
That represent the rest of my life
The countries I’ve lived in
The languages I speak
And the different cultures that have influenced me
And though these parts seem distinct and disparate at times
They create whole that is the collage of me
A collage in which
Eastern and Western culture are intertwined
Its hallmark is diversity
Its message, love
August 2016
A window to my past
A window has been opened to my past,
Unexpectedly…
But don’t many things in life happen unexpectedly?
I’m now in touch with friends from high-school
Some still in Iran
Others living all over the world
We are all 35 years older now
But we share a special bond
Because of the year we spent together
In grade nine
Students from across Iran
Gathered in the Dabirestane Daneshgah
In the city of poetry and love, Shiraz
They’re now once again scattered across Iran
And across the world
In Australia, Canada and Denmark…
Messages are sent back and forth
Pictures and poetry is shared
Friendships forged years ago
Are still alive and well!
But there is one thing that casts a shadow over this joy
And that’s the lack of freedom of Afif,
One of our dear friends….
Nevertheless this sadness is mixed with thankfulness
Because at least we have contact with him
The love and friendship I feel from everyone warms my heart
The love we all have for dear Afif is evident and clear
This connection after so many years… is unreal!
By way of Shiraz
We come here by way of Shiraz
Shiraz, the land of lovers
Shiraz, the land of those who suffered
Shiraz, the land of poets and seers
Shiraz, where we come from
We come here by way of Shiraz
Shirazi is what they call us
Shirazi girls are famous of course
For their beauty and ample brows
Shirazi’s are said not be in a hurry
We take our time
Shirazi’s are said to be gentle and patient
They don’t sweat the small stuff
We come here by way of Shiraz
We can trace our lives back to it
We can tell the stories of those who we knew
The streets we walked
The sites we saw
We can remember the neighbourhoods
Of this blessed town
We come here by way of Shiraz
We’ve found each other at Green Acre
Having lived in many climes
Since those long ago days in Shiraz
From the hot cities of Kenya
To the rainy ones in Luxembourg
From beautiful British Columbia
To the State of Virginia
We have come here by way of Shiraz
But we’ve seen the world in the meantime
Crossed oceans and mountains and lands
We have experienced ups and downs
But here we are at Green Acre
Four ladies from Shiraz
Sitting around the table
Sharing tales
Sharing our sorrows and triumphs
We come here by way of Shiraz
Our hearts full of gratitude and love
We can trace these feelings of love
Back to the magical city of Shiraz
Shiraz, the city in the valley
Shiraz, the city of a new dawn
Shiraz, the city of Mona and Roya
Shiraz, we keep you in our hearts
Lida Berghuis
December 30th, 2013
Nostalgia
The scent of saffron and rosewater
Reminds me of my Persian past
The busy streets of the bazaar
The veil-clad ladies
Bargaining for the best price
The tree-lined streets of Shiraz
The entrance gate
Darvazé-Quoran
The garden of our house
Where the weeping willows cried
The large dining room
Where many a guest dined
The American school I went to
Where East met West
And my heart was won
Where the language
And culture of the West
Opened my eyes
To another reality
In a land far off
Where I experienced
The richness of diversity
And a door was opened
That could not be shut
And so it was, that gradually
There grew a yearning
In my heart
To know those lands
To experience freedom
Freedom from religious prejudice
Freedom of thought
Freedom to express myself
And not be afraid to talk
Many days have passed
Since those days in Iran
I have called many cities home
I have laughed
I have cried
I have experienced the freedom I longed for
But as I think of my sisters and brothers
In Tehran and Shiraz
I hope that they too
Will soon taste
The sweet savor
Of freedom
Lida Berghuis
Sept. 11th, 2003
lida's musings 