You Do Not Know the People of Iran

You Do Not Know the People of Iran

You

do not know

the people of Iran.

Where have you come from,

laying a guardian’s title

on this land’s shoulders?

Who are you,

that from behind high walls

you write orders

commanding a river to stop?

What have you done

except frighten windows,

except seal mouths,

except sell tomorrow

for a few more days in power?

Where are you staring?

Into which mirror

do you still

see your own face

reflected?

We are here;

wounded,

but alive.

Few in your ledgers,

but many

in the street’s memory.

We are that same voice

that even beneath the earth

cannot be silenced.

Know this;

your ending

will not be written by closed rooms,

nor official stamps,

nor platforms of lies.

Your ending

the people of Iran

will write.

With every trick,

with every mask,

with every rope

you cast around truth’s neck,

perhaps

for a few more days

you may keep your heads

above water;

but you

have not learned

to swim

in a free world.

You

know

only the swamp,

the darkness,

survival by force.

And a people who have risen

will no longer

to shadows

surrender.

A day will come

when water

rejects your name,

the earth

refuses your footprints,

and history,

without raising its voice,

writes

its judgement.

On that day

we will not ask

who you were;

you will understand

who the people of Iran

were.

S. Rouzbeh