the raindancer   naya tari



what a tempting sound when the memories window opens and invites me from the present to the past, or, when it takes me from the present to the invented future in my mind's dreamland.

memories take me up and down, high and low as the waves do with a piece of floating wood in ocean.

memories are presently absent when i am gardening, washing, cleaning, cooking. i think of them while doing the chores. doing life?! memories are absently present when i pause doing what i am doing and pay close attention to the magical sound of that wonderful window...Click.

sunshine is licking my bare shoulders and arms covered by young, soft olive skin....a spicy scent of rosemary flowers penetrates my throat through my nostrils.

i am planting snow flake flowers in the small garden where it is safe from sun's burning kisses. "another irony, eh?" i ask of myself

"snow flake flowers in the 100+ degree heat of the Mojave desert." two short walls to the neighbors' property, limit my gardening desire to cover the whole desert with wildflowers seed. pink rocks give an attractive accent to the green color of vegetation around. and the inviting body of water in the pool takes the blue and golden high above to the modest level of earth.

"life is a big bowl of delicious soup made out of irony, parody, contradictions and paradoxes! just pour that mixed powder into the pot named your body, add tears and blood, and soul and heart as the spices. then let it boil with the heat of time, and enjoy the the journey of these seeds becoming flowers.

of the grapevine from my yard to the neighbor's.

of the rain drops to the thirsty soil's mouth." i think while shoveling the hard soil. sunshine cherishes my short brown hair as my momma's dear hands used to.


i can recall all the words told between us. i was 5 when on a boring, hot summer day, like this one, i asked her, "mom, what should i do to become a boy?" she, with the kindest look in her black eyes, and the most desirable smile on her thin lips replied: "it's so easy, sweet Persia, my little girl, run after a tornado, run fast after her, and when you are right in the middle of her ask God to change you to a boy!"


a hot west breeze strokes my back. sweat drops are sliding down like a miniature cascade from my neck and back onto my ribs. another hot breeze brushes my skin, this time harsher, and from the east. i raise up my eyes, the blue sky is stained by little pieces of clouds, a giant piece of cloud all in black is caressing the purple mountains laying west.

air is dry, and hot...there is a silent pause on the repeated notes of crickets' song. "they are making love before the storm gets here...who is on top who is below? where is the top where is they want to know that in such an ecstatic moment?" Click.

since then it became my habit. i ran after every wind. i prayed in rain, snow, hail. i grew older in storms. i have seen storms inside and out. and all the time i have been asking God for what i needed. it's been a long time that i have stopped praying to be a man. i don't want to be one. not anymore.

i take off my gloves, wash my hands with the moistened soil, pour some seed on the mud on my hands up to my arms, and lay down on the hot ground by the pool....what i need is never ending time, and some rain to make me grow green.

bees are buzzing in the bushes, birds chirping now and then under the palm tree, lizards running after each other on the brown wall....and i am singing an old lullaby for the seeds on my skin to grow faster. the wind, loosing its intense heat, is blowing more frequent.

the black cloud has covered the mountains and is concealing the horizon now.

i have been begging for years now: "God! grant me wings to fly away, to build a freedom nest, to meet my beloved."


i close my eyes trying to imagine what would my lover look like?
"i would learn the name of all colors in her eyes,
she would interpret the meaning of rain for the seeds on my skin,
and would increase the population of my lonely bath tub."

one rain drop, two rain drops on my skin. i open my eyes, she is here her soft fingers of winds surrounding me ...three rain drops, four rain drops...more...baptizing my thirsty body with the holy law of nature. rain is nibbling my face, wind is touching, caressing, stroking my body, thunder's beats opening a holy song.


now i dance and pray in the rain... i almost got myself killed last year in a storm and damn, it felt good when i stood showing my stubborn fist to clouds and thunders above, with the same prayer: "please, i need a woman by my side."


the muddy drops are painting the ground around me. birds are hurrying home to their nests beside their lovers. trees' leaves are clapping hands for me. rain drops smashing on the ground, singing the repeated song of growth for this infatuated soul. my feet start pacing in harmony back and forth. "momma? i don't want to be a boy, any more." my hands spreading the earth color around, are turning and moving in the air.


"mom? i go up and down, high and low. i go fast and slow, i am still searching." another thunder shakes the ground

"keep going my little girl, keep dancing, keep yearning, keep burning," my breasts are tightened, fastened under a white tank top. my hips softly turning, my back gently twisting.


"keep yearning, striving, not yielding, my little girl" wind whispers down my ear...

All illustrations and writing Copyright 2007 The Author except where otherwise noted.
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