A Woman from Ashes by Hiva Panahi

 

 Whatever you need to put your legs on the earth again, you need again the same exercise that we called courage. Whatever course you decide upon, there is always something from those years to remind you of the endless corridors of darkness, the entirety of human pain and tears on the ashen leaves, that will make you cry once again. So walk again for peace, like the lonely ant that struggles in relentless earth for a piece of its winter supply, so do again the same exercise that we called courage. We have reached the month of December once again, the wounds are opening, the heart is in a tsunami of the season and pulses are rising again like sails in the absent light; it's time to shed more tears in this Holy season, to not forget here on this relentless Earth to map out a course of action and follow it to the end, so to try the same exercise that you know as courage!

A Woman from Ashes by Hiva Panahi

 There's no doubt that if you can't say no, you're a potential victim of exploitation. Others will treat you as a doormat and no one will ask for your opinion – nor will they take it seriously when you give it yourself. Saying "no" reminds others that you are free, you put the issue of your freedom on your forehead, and that you have limits, as a human being, that auto respect for yourself is a non-negotiable values.I have my own name and history,I am Hiva Panahi. (From the short notes of 2011)

Notes of a Night by Hiva Panahi

Notes of a Night, by Hiva Panahi 

Don't want the eyes of those whose hearts are blind

get up and walk in the dark

If blood is running from your wounds

Let them in the wings of the stars

Get up and walk in the dark.

Look at the stones that broken, running  rivalry

Butterflies fall into these waters

The rocks take off wings

The lower plain screams

All your life a grass in the wind

Don't want the eyes of those whose hearts are blind

Get up and walk in the dark...

Don't seek the eyes of those whose hearts are blind

Get up and walk in the dark

If blood is running from your wounds

Let them be the wings of the stars

Stand up and walk in the dark.

Look at the broken stones that are running in the river

The butterflies fall in these waters

The rocks take off wings

The lower plain screams

All your life a grass in the wind

Don't seek the eyes of those 

Whose hearts are blind

Stand up and walk in the dark      

 2021, NYC                           

Under the persecution time in Athens, Greece

 

 

I couldn't deny the cold weather of 2012; it had permeated every part of my body with this unusual freezing, and my breaths came with difficulty, cold and endless glaciers. I was alone with my laptop feeling like the last stone of the world waiting to be blown down into the abyss; I looked with deep tenderness at my computer; it was the only thing I had, the only one that would be able to carry my voice and my appeals to the world from the cliff of life in this phase.
I looked at it and it stared at me, like those windows that were blowing in our backyard at my parent's home, while my heart was flooded with dreams. Now it's like I'm watching a tragic piece of cinema, a movie in the middle of winter, the voice of a Starbuck's employee: We will be closing in 10 minutes. With great gratitude I look at her and I say, "Okay". I leave the cafe and continue walking; the city of Athens is not the same at all, and my tears fall down. I say to myself, "Don't cry please," and take another sedative. My laptop and I would stay in the medical school reading room until morning again. I was counting the moments and awaiting my death in Athens.