Seed of the Pomegranate
by Narmina Osmanova
December 2, 2021
I grab on to the pomegranate as lifelessly as my mind sits -
Processing every image war torn shreds I've seen through
A lens of survival. Not too attached as I will collapse onto my
Mother's hands
And they are already too brittle to hold anything but tears.
The knife is sharp and I think of blood splattered on cathedrals as
I cut into half.
The pomegranate -
In its promise of fertility and life - to be reborn we have started over
Time and time again. In ruins of our own, and in ruins of others.
I smell an awakening that runs through our youth
In backroads and villages as the fire burns - we run with it
And trace our scriptures for keeps.
There will come a time when I will tell this story too, the way my grandmother
Told her daughter and the way my mother told me.
In broken languages and a family spread through maps
In lineage never forgotten.
I let my hands dig right in, grabbing the seeds with hope and
Fear. All entwined and I have a hard time taking a deep breath.
In headlines I see their bodies piled up like leftover rot - to the outside
We are.
They dig right in, right into our bodies - to
Carnage. And all there is
Our remains to scatter in revenge.
The burst of vigor as I bite in and drink
To this loneliness. The glossing over words and treaties that can never replace
A bountiful belonging to the sun and its sky. A flower bed of aromas that
Fuel my own desires, and I suddenly miss what I never really had.
Our hands deep in dough we offer to our ancestors the comfort of home,
Of roads we never walked on but recite in our memories.
There is no special profit to a land, but a belonging to its
Harmony. To be a part of its balance in dark and light. We grew with it.
They can put a name to anything, but
A life that it once had
Remains in its roots.
Narmina Osmanova is a 33 year old Armenian American with roots in Baku and Artsakh, residing in Seattle since 1996. Her family and community always inspire her to write and speak her truth even if it ruffles a few feathers, which it should. Her self care consists of good food, radical anti-capitalist studies and chai.