Here is the poem I wrote today about Neda Agha Soltan, may she rest in peace.
Neda, pure-deep-set eyes,
We could've been lovers
Neda, raven-black, beautiful black hair,
We could've been dearest friends.
The car, oppressingly hot
under the austere palm of
the authoritarian sun-
heat, not uncommon for
early June, -she-
Surrounded by swarthy-stark
Asphalt...
Creeping-like a desert lizard
across a vast sea of black sand the car lurches
slowly through traffic...
an ephemeral microcosm of green-
tattered fabric flailing
in the wind-
"dust" choking the lungs of a sick-
violent system,
engulfed by tidal demands of transparency-
...stop...
Our Ophelia steps out of her carriage to feel the free wind
{yearns for freedom}
-One can only fathom the brief thoughts that
fluttered----through her vibrant mind
Her brothers and sisters defying
a supreme decree,
heat-vicious heat
the vinegar-sting of tear gas,
the sickening swoosh of Basiji batons,
Screams and slogans
humming humming
a rumbling
murmur of revolution.
{one can only guess}-her thoughts-
Perhaps,
simply,
a song,
dwelling in her heart,
tapping her delicate fingers to the refrain-
a song of freedom, unbridled youth,
perhaps,
she thought of her fiancee-
a future life,
consummated by marriage and the thought
of growing old together... together...
then...
CRACK! the sound of skulls shattering,
but shrill...shriller,
silence, she's burning,
throbbing, hotter now,
a jealous June day
"It's burning me"
-ah ma cheri
slumping to the still- scalding pavement
-ah ma cheri
surrounded by doctors and fathers-
"open your eyes, stay with me!"
-ah ma cheri
you could be my sister-
your mouth is bleeding
-ah ma cheri
They're calling your name-
your words are mute, your voice is silenced
- ah ma cheri
you could've been my mother, cradling me-
-ah ma cheri
you were all of these to me.
Though your eyes-
opals of inexorable white,
were sewn by shaky-fearful hands,
your spirit has awoken a slumbering mass-
your courageous martyrdom speaks
as the un-ignorable voice of REVOLUTION.
Neda, your heart beats within us,
Neda, until the last of us-
you will endure...
Neda: remarkable, indelible.
Neda, pure-deep-set eyes,
We could've been lovers
Neda, raven-black, beautiful black hair,
We could've been dearest friends.
The car, oppressingly hot
under the austere palm of
the authoritarian sun-
heat, not uncommon for
early June, -she-
Surrounded by swarthy-stark
Asphalt...
Creeping-like a desert lizard
across a vast sea of black sand the car lurches
slowly through traffic...
an ephemeral microcosm of green-
tattered fabric flailing
in the wind-
"dust" choking the lungs of a sick-
violent system,
engulfed by tidal demands of transparency-
...stop...
Our Ophelia steps out of her carriage to feel the free wind
{yearns for freedom}
-One can only fathom the brief thoughts that
fluttered----through her vibrant mind
Her brothers and sisters defying
a supreme decree,
heat-vicious heat
the vinegar-sting of tear gas,
the sickening swoosh of Basiji batons,
Screams and slogans
humming humming
a rumbling
murmur of revolution.
{one can only guess}-her thoughts-
Perhaps,
simply,
a song,
dwelling in her heart,
tapping her delicate fingers to the refrain-
a song of freedom, unbridled youth,
perhaps,
she thought of her fiancee-
a future life,
consummated by marriage and the thought
of growing old together... together...
then...
CRACK! the sound of skulls shattering,
but shrill...shriller,
silence, she's burning,
throbbing, hotter now,
a jealous June day
"It's burning me"
-ah ma cheri
slumping to the still- scalding pavement
-ah ma cheri
surrounded by doctors and fathers-
"open your eyes, stay with me!"
-ah ma cheri
you could be my sister-
your mouth is bleeding
-ah ma cheri
They're calling your name-
your words are mute, your voice is silenced
- ah ma cheri
you could've been my mother, cradling me-
-ah ma cheri
you were all of these to me.
Though your eyes-
opals of inexorable white,
were sewn by shaky-fearful hands,
your spirit has awoken a slumbering mass-
your courageous martyrdom speaks
as the un-ignorable voice of REVOLUTION.
Neda, your heart beats within us,
Neda, until the last of us-
you will endure...
Neda: remarkable, indelible.
* There is a great deal of symbolism in this poem...including Neda's hair color, though dark brown in life, her black hair symbolizes mourning in the poem. Ask me if you don't understand any symbols. The death of Neda, and the other peaceful protesters, has shaken me to the core. It is is unfathomable to think of such brutality. I hope the protests continue and I hope they are peaceful, following the example of Gandhi, Bhutto, and Suu Kyi.
May she rest in peace.
*** pictures from -http://www.cnn.com/2009/WORLD/meast/06/23/iran.neda.profile/index.html#cnnSTCPhoto
I was doing a little blog surfing when I came across your page. Wow...this really moved me. And what a beautiful picture. I'm sorry for your loss.
ReplyDeleteWow. There's not a lot more to say than that. The imagry in this is beautiful, the passion, the heat - I could feel it! I held my breath through most of it, "what happens next?!" This is really, really great work!
ReplyDelete