Angel of Shiraz
At 7:30pm, Saturday, 23 October, 1982
four armed guards pushed their way into Mona’s house.
Graceful emerald with crystal pearl eyes
wrapping the embrace of children to your heart.
Chasing hammer cup bur-singing
seventeen sonnets of love, so young
it pains the curb.
Three tic-tacs feel like years
searching the drawers.
Closet knobs gripping the guards’ hands
as joyous temperatures rise
to their ruby peek.
“Loop lady, don’t say the emerald
is only seventeen.
Children follow what she speaks
like roses marching straight into Zion.”
I would die for You.
“Furkhundih, azizum joon mama.
Don’t worry. They are my brothers too.”
There are no good-byes
in that blindfolded prison of Sepah.
Leaf Mothers rush
from their heavenly chambers
in anguish to safeguard
the Emerald of Shiraz.
The Angel begs for the noose
to let her be the last.
She says: I chant the winds of change.
I will die for You.