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Thanks to Muhammad Imtiaz for allowing me to work with him to create this piece. I added a bit of fantasy to his real life experience. He was moved by seeing poverty up close in a Souk (Market) in Pakistan. His poem of the same title was the motivation for this new piece.


Haunting Fruits and Innocent Wish

I hear a voice,
“Come to the market.
If you have Rupees,  
you may share in our bounty.”
In a moment I’m Magically transported to a Souk.
I am surrounded by faces colors and smells.
To my surprise I am wearing a white Thawb, 
a foreign long flowing garment.
Upon my feet are leather woven sandals,
I float above the hard-packed earth beneath my feet.
I am an apparition in a strange yet visceral place.
My body feels cool,
as the air flows easily beneath the garment as I walk
The fabric surprises my skin,
it is both simple and fluid.

Above my head blankets and flags 
are draped across the street.
Light dances through the intricate weaves of the blankets.
The flags create a rhythmic flapping sound.
Pashminas hanging from rods
are within the easy reach of patrons.
In this place the colors make rainbows seem ordinary.
Here is brass and silver with artistic designs.
Jewelry sparkles in the mid-day sun.
“ Come, Come, I give you excellent deal!”
I Smile, nodding as I continue on.
My mind drinks in the tapestry that lays before me.
Baskets of mangos, papayas and apricots.
Red, green and yellow peppers.
Nuts and dates in white porcelain coated metal bowls.
Spices in see through plastic bags.
A stone bowl with unusual markings holds Cayenne peppers.
I feel overwhelmed by all the sights and sounds,
not sure where I should rest my eyes.
Fully alive yet blind to all that I cannot see.

So I close my eyes,
allowing my heart to   s  l  o  w   down.
Becoming calm, quiet, present.
In that moment from the corner on my eye,
I see a poor woman with her child.
Turning towards them,
I watch as she places a few coins in a vendor’s hand.
He reaches under his counter for the lesser things,
the not so pretty things,. Those less vibrant things.
Things that someone like me would toss away.
These rotting things, she places in her child’s hands.
His need temporarily satiated.
His is a look of thankfulness.
Her look is one of sadness and wishes.
Still, she wears her tattered robes with a noble bearing.
Myself I feel my shoulders slump,
my abundance weighing heavily,
my selfishness,
my lack of need,
my lack of awareness.
This willful ignorance,
this emptiness,
this decaying from within.
So I walk towards them,
while reaching for my leather bag.
As I fumble for bills I slip,
falling flat upon the dusty ground.
My white robes are covered in dirt.
I am bankrupt in spirit and hands.
Invisible, except for to the eyes of a boy.
The boy is now in a man’s body,
wearing a white thawb.
Me, I am a small child in tattered robes,
bare feet, soiled face,
clutching to rotting fruit.
The noble woman grabs my hand
Saying “Come, come my son, I have much to show you!”
The man in white looks at her and asks “Do I know you?
She says “I am no one...
He reaches into a leather bag and hands her a few bills.
As he walks away, she whispers “wishes do come true.”
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