Creative Writing: Identity

November 29, 2019

 Image courtesy of Wix





by Shaghayegh Ghezlayagh


I think of my footsteps.

My mother's back breaking.

My father's heart breaking.

It's all breaking.


I think of this language.

My Farsi is poetry. Soft silk nestled against my tongue. Beauty, beauty, and more beauty, all spilling out.


I think of this language.

Cutting my tongue. How sharp. Don't let it bleed.


I think of my homeland. Nestled in my heart. Refusing to leave.

I think of the name changes. The passports. The goodbyes.


I think of Siavash. Walking through the fire. Oh my love, may I come out burnt, but may I come out alive.


Oh my love, may you stay traced on the palms of my tired hands.


What comes from the sea goes back to the sea.

What goes to the sea comes back from the sea.







This article is part of our one-off edition of IQ Magazine, out from November the 29th 2019. Pick up the magazine on campus in our InQuire distribution bins in Keynes, Co-op, the Templeman library and other locations on campus.

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