In Tehran

In Tehran,
There is no hope,
"A living hell"
So they say on the TV box and in the pages filled
With so many carefully chosen words.
 
This is fine,
Really,
To be expected.
I mean,
Tehran is not in the United States,
And that is just what happens
When you are not in the United States,
Right?
 
For God blessed the blood that flows
In our veins
As well as the blood that flows
Rich like the earth
And soil
And oil
Beneath,
To be drained expediently
From any who threaten it.
 
My words drip
With a cynicism
Perhaps a touch too strong;
No apologies my dears,
We are in grave days,
And we must speak without holding back.
 
But who here does not know
A mind that thinks like this;
A soul
Wayward in its quest
To understand
And be understood?
 
A soul
Eager for
The truth which resides
Within
Your ears
Your tongues
Your pens and butterfly keyboards,
Latent in the lens of your DSLR,
Or even your megapixel myPhone.
 
In Tehran
There are so many people...

With beaming smiles
That are prone to vanish,
The same as yours,
When afraid.

With hearts
That are prone to grow harder
The same as yours,
When broken.

With souls
That are prone to cease expressing themselves in this realm
The same as yours,
When torn from their earthly bodies by an airstrike.

___

I mourn the death of all
who have suffered and died by the bombs and bullets of fear and misunderstanding.
There are none among us whose death should be celebrated...