On a summer day
in this ancient land
where a pagan sun
once reigned supreme
in a merciless encounter
between hope and fear
in the eternal sphere
of creation—
on the streets of a city
torn between what was
and what is to be—
between Adam
and Eve—on the eve
of a new dawn you ventured
forth with childlike candor
holding the hand
of destiny…
You wondered for whom
the shots were meant
as your chest exploded
and you fell…
your wide open young eyes
turned to the skies
to the fading light
of a silent sun
seeking an answer
to the divine thirst
for a sacrifice—
a burnt offering
on the blood soaked altar
of freedom of the soul…
Your unuttered call
yet to be heard
is suddenly silenced
by a pierced heart
bleeding on the dust
of a long road paved with pain
leading to the final abode
of the human spirit
in its quest for peace
in an Eden without bars…
You are home at last
nestled in a million hearts
that witnessed in your demise
and your frozen gaze
the surging triumph of light
over darkness.
(2009)
Tatul Sonentz-Papazian
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Dear Tatul Sonentz-Papazian,
thank you so much for your beautiful, meaningful poem… I am certain, that every Iranian will deeply appreciate this sad peom…
Thank you once again.
My warmest regards,
Dela
Dear Tatul,
Thanks for your hearty Stanzas
We can’t stop feeling with the others–
As we feel what they felt,
Sylva
_______________________________
Neda: Nedaa, which means “Call” in Arabic Poetic Language,
“The Freedom Called Her to Be the Martyr”
Someone must be…
And She was the one,
Her beautiful innocent eyes,
Were shut by a tyrant,
So called religious young man
Who cannot be more than a trained slayer
He was praying for whom—
Was his genes developed from a devil?
Sylva Portoian
June 2009