Poetry · S. Rouzbeh · 26 October 2026Dey Still Carries Your Scent
A poem of grief, remembrance and endurance in Dey, the Iranian winter month.
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Poetry · S. Rouzbeh · 26 October 2026
Poetry · S. Rouzbeh · 9 October 2026A Home Called Iran
Iran is not the inheritance of a single lineage, group or slogan. It is the shared home of everyone whose heart belongs to this land. A home cannot be built through hatred and shouting; it can be lit again through responsibility, empathy, understanding, hands joined together and each person's willingness to carry a share of its burden.
Poetry · S. Rouzbeh · 3 October 2026Life Tastes of Pepper
A poem of protest and mourning for young lives lost, bereaved mothers and wounds deepened by denial. Amid tears and grief, hope remains alive: a flower can be torn apart, but spring cannot be killed.
Poetry · S. Rouzbeh · 3 October 2026The Picture Frame
Mehregan has arrived, yet someone is still missing from our homes. A poem of young lives returned in photographs, and of a mother's tears keeping a lamp alight.
Poetry · S. Rouzbeh · 16 September 2026Bloody Repression
A poem remembering the nights of 18 and 19 Dey, the young who were killed and the grief of their families, while holding on to the voice of justice and hope for Iran's tomorrow.
Poetry · S. Rouzbeh · 5 September 2026Iran Is Our Inheritance
Iran is the home we have inherited, whose walls still hold our mother's scent. Its doors may be locked and its lights put out, but no one can erase a home from the memory of those to whom it belongs.
Poetry · S. Rouzbeh · 3 September 2026The Last Day
A meditation on the final ordinary day before a death, and on the families who continue living with the enduring presence of absence.
Poetry · S. Rouzbeh · 16 August 2026Forty Thousand Lights
Phone lights become a river of resistance in this poem of mourning, remembrance and the refusal to surrender to darkness.
The Calendar Cannot Rest
Days and months of mourning become a pledge to remember the dead and keep working towards freedom and justice.
The Hourglass
The passing of time exposes the fragility of violent power, while a wounded country holds the possibility of renewal.
Blood’s Poison
The blood of the young becomes an image of the corrosion of power, and of a country’s refusal to let its dead disappear from memory.
The Heart That Was Not Executed
In memory of two young people executed at dawn in Isfahan, a heart formed by two hands becomes an image of freedom surviving death.
A Life Given for Iran
A tribute to those who valued their country’s freedom above their own lives, and whose legacy lives in the hopes of those who follow.
A Revolution of Words
Three expressions — Child of Iran, One Who Gave Their Life for the Homeland, and One Whose Name Lives On — carry grief from private rooms into a nation’s shared memory.
Dancing Amid Grief
A mother’s dance at her child’s grave becomes a gesture of mourning and resistance.
Yousef
Written for Yousef Miri, this poem answers a mother’s wish that her son’s name should be known and remembered.
The Shock Continues
Six months after mass killing, grief remains at the instant the news arrived, refusing to let human lives become mere numbers.
You Were Not Unknown
A nameless victim is remembered as a sister whose life and identity cannot be reduced to a number.