"Maybe being good isn’t about getting rid of anything. Maybe being good has to do with living in the mess. In the moment. In the frailty. In the failures. In the flaws. Maybe what I try to get rid of is the goodest part of me. Maybe good is about developing the capacity to live fully inside everything. Our body is our country, the only city, the only village, the only every we will ever know. Our body is the carrier of the stories of the world, of the earth, of the mother. Our body is our home. We live in a good body."

-Eve Ensler, The Good Body

Untitled

I paint my lungs black
in dark comedy,
No consequences in my eye.
Teeth and bells echo and
die before they reach the pulpit,
Cracked with a million lies,
heavy sighs;
They wax and wane,
half moons meeting in a broken sky.
My wings clipped and fell down,
down mid-flight
by great shears in the twilight.
I never saw them behind me.
They were never really there.
Only dreams my feet dared,
dragging roots through dirt
caked in pavement,
a lightening-maze,
picture-mirror of the broken sky.
The only clouds I walk on
are dust.
The devils tug at my toes and curl
their sharp tails around them.
Little by little I crumble and slip
like sand into the quick.
Those phantom wings are still bent where they were tossed,
And I keep reaching,
I keep crawling
to all that I have lost.



-10/26/10

© Farhana Jahan

Action

Why do you sit there
with your dark eyes blazing,
pen-hand restless,
sharp wit sparring,
dry mouth silent?

What good is passion,
devotion,
intelligence,
without a voice to make it heard?



2008.

© Farhana Jahan

I do wonder.

Like a hole that is deep.

Witty observation
that I noticed through
a quirky talent I have.
Analysis,
analysis,
bullshit.
Sarcastic, self-deprecating comment
should make you think me clever and misunderstood—
but comes off pretentious (and pathetic).
Society sucks.
I am so poignant, only me, alone.
Want me.
Love me.
Love sucks too.
Love is…(this will drag on for a bit).
You can skip to the end
where I’ll leave you hanging,
(but not wanting more)
with an ellipse…



-02/10/10

© Farhana Jahan

The Show

Come now,
take a peek;
Sneak close to the blinds,
sidle up to a door, and-
you want more?

Then, pry away the layers
until they give way on their own.
We are voyeurs
and performers.

You see me;
the big strip tease-
Ladies and gentlemen,
this is my soul,
these are my feet.

Keep the peelings,
you'll need them for your show-
And they'll never know they're secondhand
twice, thrice in a row.

We'll go to sleep
under the spotlight;
Spend woken hours in the dark;
stalking strangers, stalking shadows,
eying keyholes and computers-
It's all the same.

This is the game, and
we have no shame.



-11/23/09

© Farhana Jahan


Inspired in part by Sylvia Plath's "Lady Lazarus", and a little social networking site called Facebook.

Falling

Falling
into the rabbit hole
is the best of all.
Before, there was standing;
Now, there is motion.
There's color, in the dark,
Many colors!
I'm not sure if my eyes are open or not.
Falling
is suspense;
I'm suspended-
no ropes, nope.
No ties.
Just falling,
not knowing,
is the thrill.



-09/17/09

© Farhana Jahan

Samira

Bosom friend and soul sister.

Graphite, soft pastel.