Apple
By: Jehangir Saleh
Written: April 6, 2003

As the earth circles the sun
and the round universe deepens
an apple remains
Stem up, on the dirty table
encased with a big red
fake expression
Ignoring the scars
pain, wounds, fractured pores
that have darkened
a vulnerable inside

I am an apple
a traffic stop light
with a third dimension
Sitting on the table
in my perfect condition
waiting to be seen

I Love You
By: Jehangir Saleh
Written: April 6, 2003

Never, have I found a lover
Instead I keep a marigold flower
Trapped inside an oriental pot
With the silver Chinese inscription: “I Love You”
I held together our one sided relationship
I, the caregiver, nurturer, housewife, maid
Fed, cleaned and read to her
In return
My only request was that she stay
With me, alive
However:
In accordance with natural law
As beauty must frail
Hope shatter
Age fade into time
She died, slowly
With her I waited
And witnessed each petal
Float away her life
She lived twenty-seven days
I aged immensely

Tonight drips dark turquoise
I am soaking
Burning marigold incense
Trapped beside myself
Holding dead love
In my hand, an oriental coffin
With the silver Chinese inscription: “I Love You”
I am broken
The pot remains

I Am Cancer
By: Jehangir Saleh
Written: April 6, 2003

It doesn’t matter to me
That you don’t love me
(I thought I should let you know)
Plato’s seabed is my soul
the ground he built on
As a slave, everyone will see me below you

I am:
the scrambled TV
the expired condom
the dripping laundry,
hanging in the dirty breeze
You try and ignore my salty taste
that stains your lips
while you fall into sleep

I was joking
when I told you NOT to love me
but you smiled, and agreed

I will only blossom, expand
become more disgusting
Don’t worry
I have myself to save
so sleep now while the night thickens
and the cancer beside you
grows

Yeats
By: Jehangir Saleh
Written: April 6, 2003

Yesterday
I read Yeats in my bed
at two in the morning
my body heavy
my mind still speeding
down the track

as he came
forty-six years before me
I can only imagine a man
whose life was a joyful tragedy¹
an individual manifestation
of hidden truth and meaning²
who still hadn’t figured it out
but knew
he never would

I would have liked
to have met him
shook his hand
and thanked him
for all his suffering

I too
Being poor
Have only my dreams³

¹After his readings of German philosopher Nietzsche,
Yeats developed a notion of ‘tragic joy’; being able
to accept defeats with a certain amount of fervour.

³Based on line five from poem “He wishes for
the Clothes of Heaven”, from Wind Among the Reeds
by W.B. Yeats, published 1899

Warning
By: Jehangir Saleh
Written: April 6, 2003

Mass graves
lie ignored in front
of churches, mosques, temples
clustered against the footsteps
hoping to get inside

these are the ultimate victims
discriminated against
by everyone
deaf, dumb, dead
on the floor
some red
others wasting away orange
punished by necessity
stepped, jumped on
burned in sacrifice
and sloth

we are burning ourselves
sucked from our decomposing coffins
we’ll come back
as leaves

To Love
By: Jehangir Saleh
Written: April 6, 2003

I was afraid once you came
the unhappiness would leave
inspiration evaporate
and my poetry would suffer

thanks for salvaging my verse
you hypocritical bastard
crafty architect of insubstantial
cloud pillow dreams
raining fragrant, full bodied
emotions
(with sensual overtones)
down to the roots
of my punctured heart
which slowly started to burn
right through
while the addiction grew
stealing sleep
logical thought
and innocence

now I stand defeated:
messy hair, shirt unbuttoned
pale faced, dirty stockings
immersed in ramblings
of lunatic poetry

but (apparently) safe,
soundly in the company
of love

By: Jehangir Saleh
Written: August 25, 2002

Four months ago Adam Buschmeyer was undetermined. Out of work, out of school, and on welfare he stood outside St. Stephen’s Employment and Training Centre. Pushed by failing ambition and a recommendation from his girlfriend he walked into St. Stephen’s; his life did a 360.
As a child, Adam wanted to be an astronaut. He assures me that sooner or later, he plans to land on the moon. But too long ago, he never knew such ambition. “I had this indifferent, aphetic attitude”, said Adam “I walked into St. Stephen’s expecting a handout, figuring it would be a typical employment centre, not a big help”. He had no idea that day would change his life. I interviewed him after a hard day’s work where he now is an executive administrator at North Rock mechanics, and a budding entrepreneur.
“I asked myself ‘Where are you going?’ and it didn’t take much to realize I was going no where”, recalls Adam. He registered for Job Connect, a job placement program at St. Stephen’s funded by the Province of Ontario. The program places the job seeker with a job counsellor who empowers them with the tools to find employment. Adam was assigned to employment counsellor Helen Hyun. “You could see a real progression in Adam” says Helen, “you could see the improvement as he kept coming in”.
“It wasn’t that I didn’t want a job, I wasn’t mentally ready for getting a job”. Adam describes an instance during a counselling session with Helen where he was slouched in his chair. When she asked him about his lazy posture, he was hit with a wave of realization. “It was a light bulb moment! Something so simple, but it had never occurred to me. Any employer would look at that and see a negative attitude”.
As Adam kept visiting St. Stephen’s, his enthusiasm rose. “It was like a went from going no where to suddenly ‘oh my lord’, I have this clarity and wisdom. With Helen, he learned __(need to find info on how he acquired his entrepreneurial job placement )_________.
His speech now carries with it a flow of confidence and energy. He seems ready to do battle with all employment obstacles in his path.
The Job Connect program places job seekers into an employment position with a commitment from the employment. Adam’s employer was looking for someone who eventually wanted to take over the entire business. “Here I am. I never would have imagined myself in this position” says Adam, with his enteurpreneurial spirit, “I’m learning to run my own business, I developing my own business proposal”. Aside from being an astronaut, or a professional skydiver, Adam’s dream job is to be a self-employment computer technician.

By: Jehangir Saleh
Written: August 24, 2002

My writing began as an outlet to ease worry. The only aspect of CF I severely dislike is the bit of worry that lingers as you combat the disease. In the beginning of the sixth grade secretly I began writing poetry, throwing my negative energy into words on a page. And I have kept at it ever since, writing in between schoolwork, volunteering, therapy treatments and part time jobs. I would never have thought I’d be acknowledged for my writing. In the ninth grade my first poem was published in an international anthology. I have since placed in the top three standing in numerous writing competitions, published in the Leaside Chronicle, Toronto Star, and received an honourable mention in Princeton University’s poetry competition. Author Lynette Roy asked me to write my personal story for her book about CF, apart of the “Scientists and Diseases” series. This summer I was an intern in the marketing department of St. Stephen’s Community House, a social service agency that helps disenfranchised youth. I had an opportunity to develop marketing strategies, write and design a newsletter and promotional materials for St. Stephen’s. This internship allowed me to combine the creativity of writing and practical business, and has given me direction and confidence to seek a career where I am able to use my creative flair.

Untitled Song
By: Jehangir Saleh
Written: May 7, 2002

If I killed myself
Come, you would,
to the disturbing conclusion
that I was wrong
horribly incorrect
and I led you like
a goat
Or possibly, that I was the goat
and you my sheperd
Either way
It’s me holding my own blame

Death presuades, my dear
Like dark opiate
addiction I have yet to overcome

I probably do love you
In my limited capacity to feel
without comparsions
I REM God subtle messages
composed of “Me”, “Let”
“Her”, “Have”

Being a monster
I’ve chosen to live
Remaining wrongly
When really, I belong to pass
Leaving me in your blindness
And you in mine

So again we come
I, the selfish fish
You, the Mighty
holding the box of kleenex
waiting for me
to die

By: Jehangir Saleh
Written: March 12, 2002

I am frightened of your completeness
Frightened for scar-less purple lesbian children
Playing the sparkly tint of charcoal
In them I reform you
Mighty
Sweetly like sugar canes
I am porridge
With out blueberry honey

I’ve quivered in many corners
Like
Unsure if your seams are sown