My land
is that lady who searched
from the moment the sun woke up
until the moon took over
for twenty years or more
every prison in my nation
to find
her executed husband.
My land
is that child
who was gave birth to
in a prison cell, last year.
Or maybe the mother
who shouted out the pain
while bringing the embryo to life
by cursing the baby’s father
-the man who raped her-.
My land
is the man on tv
from exile
who encourages me
to boycott the elections
in the hope for Americans to help
by bombing my land.
Or the old man
who is watching tv
and hoping to find
some radiation of light
in the face of the speaker…
My land
is the unknown art student
who was passing by
and accidentally
got arrested
in a wide
student demonstration
and became
the hero of my land.
My land
is the writer who was imprisoned
many times
either when the lions ruled
or when the vultures came.
Oh my land,
You are so lonely my land.
You are alone my land.
Recently by Farinaz Aryanfar | Comments | Date |
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[1] http://www.farinazaryanfar.com