grappling with identities

In Al Mahmud's Deathsleep (402) traces of his identity climb out of his childhood. The poem begins with a reflection of his childhood, "so far no one had any worries at all for me... a myopic member of the family... this never bothered anyone". Myopic meaning lacking foresight or intellectual insight, which could be the characteristics of him as a child, as he casts himself different from "everybody in the house" who "flocked together" as soon as would finish his meal. Still in past tense, the poem takes us through early adulthood, internalized feelings of disenfranchisement, "a person who has no party no power no movements" no belonging. His wife, now a member of his family who's opinion about himself he cares about hasn't been with him long enough to make the same generalizations about him the rest have, however she does not rely on him nor seem to care very openly about his depression either. I assume depression because of the references to sleeping that repeat throughout the piece. "She used to say- I slept like a beast and dreamt while awake, all day long./ My married wife has no doubt that I am not human." He places his identity in the realm of dehumanizing qualities, perhaps because of the disconnected nature of his childhood and lack of community as an adult? Moving towards present time in the poem his identity remains locked into a desolate existence, "of late she is scared of me, I sink into deep slumber even when my eyes are wide open." Aware of his depression and unable to move away from it, "I wouldn't respond to treatment she knows that too." His identity has been largely formed around his depression that has kept him sleeping all his life, keeping a distance from people we normally seek comfort through, it seems as though he is questioning if he can break the cycle to find his true self.

I can't tell if it truly is depression he's battling which can severely alter your identity when living through it or if it's a metaphor for his father being distant and this is a reflection of his life repeating the same familial pattern.

I found Asadullah Habib's poem The Story of My Country to have a similar sadness of conflicting identities relating to a past and present that makes up their who. The piece is translated from Persian/Dari which was helpful knowledge to begin, and although I know very little if anything about that side of the globe, however I know Persia is ancient Iran. The poem starts with "the story of my country" as  "so sorrowful it cannot be spoken" however it's juxtaposed with positive imagery, "like a colorful dream before the night of Eid." A sense of in-betweens becomes the real identity crisis as each verse bounces back and forth dividing stanzas unevenly between pros and cons. "My country is a book of disasters/ or maybe a beautiful poem without end" from which I understood as the falling of the empire being read from different perspectives and perhaps living on through stories not yet heard. There is a balancing act between Habib's identities through which he acknowledges the historical backgrounds of his countries religious markers, while Eid is a Muslim holiday practices by many Iranians, Zarathustra is an Iranian prophet associated with ancient Persia. I also feel a connection to death and rebirth to which I tie his identity to a being that cannot be fixed but continues to grow like "the flower of Azarnoosh growing through the cracks of rocks." This flower is commonly used for graves and memorials however I'm getting through this text that he associates the death flower with life and survival. "A fractured mirror, a continuous fire, a burning garden" traumatic yet beautiful, life affirming, renewing, aspects of identity making. Lastly the poem ends with "where are the old storytellers... where is one listener?" I believe this is where he doubts his own story, the identity he's created through self reflection and simply being, and he is questioning why there was no one before him. I wonder if, like many ancient cultures and indigenous groups, Persians suffered erasure of their old traditions and don't have heavy influence on mainstream societal practices and institutions in Iran. Maybe this poem is a testament to that erasure of cultural identity and the back and forth narrative is the poet grappling with the struggles of taking on two identities of which can be alluring and damaging.