the joy of Fall is waiting
bringing its special colors
and coolness
the oppressive heat of summer
declines…
i’d love to visit New England
see the colors in full beauty,
walk the leaf-strewn sidewalks
that we walked
as kids;
picking up the prettiest
specimens
and skipping
the rest of the way
to school.
Linda Tauhid
9/22/18
http:wp.me/s322Py-equinox
avocados are my steak
romaine lettuce
is my bread.
you might ask
how this juxtaposition
took place
a foodie eating
only vegetables…
the answer is lost
in shedded pounds
and plummeting cholesteral
levels
and a joie de vivre
formerly achieves
by culinary richness.
instead
i play
with quinoa
and salsa verde
with chipoltle
and cayenne
merrily skipping
what i used to jump into
with alacrity.
excuse me, I’m hungry…
i think i’ll have a steak–
i mean
an avocado!
Linda Tauhid
9/22/18
we danced out of high school
that summer
into the dormitory
of Northeastern U’s White Hall.
the soundtrack of the summer
was led by “Respect”.
we painted houses in Roxbury–
a student project;
hailing from Simmons and Brandeis and Harvard–
the colleges of Boston
and some from the South;
Dillard & Howard.
a conglomerate of cultures:
the beginnings of Black Power,
SDS and the Weathermen…
turning out a summer of love;
listening to Jimi Hendricks
and the all-pervasive soul offerings
on warm barefoot evenings
on Huntington Ave.
there is no one
like Aretha.
her voice
has surely reached the heavens
the strain and rasp
of a stretching soprano
with a contralto back.
she sang for my time,
for our time–
she crooned and retorted
as we wandered the mazes
of beginnings
to ends…college, marriage
birth and death…
a cycle that has led us to
another time–
a time of turmoil
and reversal;
of treachery
and hope.
and quiet summer nights
unlit by dance and music
or walks on The Fenway.
alone and contemplating
how we got
from there
to here.
Linda Tauhid
9/2/18
how i
Linda Tauhid
6/14/18
the moon of Ramadan
is waning…
soon it will be
beyond sight;
slight
like the skin
of a date stone.
it would be nice
to be in Senegal
where the sky is endless
and the earth
expansive
on a quiet night
of Africa’s silent prayer
and to partake of
the neglected food
of daytime
from a shared common
platter–
the hot grease of red oil
staining the eater’s fingers;
the satisfaction
of
each grain
of rice,
each drop
of water,
each sip
of
hibiscus tea.
Linda Tauhid
©6/5/18
there is no food here
no water
only air;
the fruit flies
hunt for food,
they visit me
while i sleep
peeping at my nostrils,
lighting on my lips
to steal a taste
of sweetness
from the morning dates of suhoor*
it is quiet;
the energy to run
and play
has subsided amidst
the long days
that we are counting…
victorious at each success.
as the world spins
and Kilauea spews her fire
reminding us
that to live, to love, to believe
we too
must burn.
*suhoor is a transliteration of the Arabic word for the pre-fast meal of Ramadan
Linda Tauhid
6/3/18
i am becoming
haiku; simple words flowing
repeating my truth
