A Sestina in 1979

Abstract

POETRY Firoozeh KashaniSabet is a novelist and a professor of Middle Eastern history at the University of Pennsylvania. Her creative work follows the treacherous path of politics by intruding into people’s personal lives and private spaces. Through her poems and stories, she explores some of the themes of her academic research, including alienation, prejudice, power, love, and violence. A Note on “A Sestina in 1979” by Firoozeh Kashani-Sabet After the Iranian Revolution of 1979, the Islamic Republic placed restrictions on public musical performances and the pursuit of professional musical interests. Although traditional Persian music regained some of its status and popularity, the state maintained a complicated, and often negative, relationship with Western music, especially in public settings. This poem recognizes the beauty and burden of creating “boundless music” of all genres and in all social settings. A Sestina in 1979 by Firoozeh Kashani-Sabet for Lida Berberian I remember when I couldn’t read music; The pile of unfamiliar books lay listless; my hands glided across every open note, reaching out to the piano, an overture to harmonize the random sounds into one melody. I was six . . . She led me through six measures, my fingers following hers. “Music,” she hummed, “is what we’ll create.” One by one we approached my listless drills. I felt the grand piano long enough to caress every note. Her music, my only language. The note, my first alphabet. Six seasons later, we bought a new piano. The rioters outside listened to our music, the estranged waltzes. My fingers, no longer listless, had learned to crescendo from one measure to the next, perfecting one suite after another. The note from the committee arrived on a listless afternoon, as the Shah’s requiem dimmed. I had six weeks to perform a lifetime of music. My teacher stood beside the piano choosing the études, correcting my pianofortes . The voices blending into one, a deafening cry for freedom. The music fading – the stilted chord, every pedaled note. We practiced together for six days, the metronome ticking away the listless hours. Nothing seemed listless on stage, the grand piano awaiting my turn. Six pages delivered, the judges following my one remaining bar of music. Gunshots crackling with each note, a revolution unfolding as the music cruelly echoed. No listless repetitions, one last time touching the piano, harmonizing every note – Six breathless measures, a coda for boundless music. WORLDLIT.ORG 15 EBONY AND IVORY / PHOTO BY BLONDINRIKARD FRÖBERG / FLICKR ...