The Picture Frame
S. Rouzbeh
2026-10-03

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.

Mehregan has come
but in our homes
still
someone's place is empty.

Our young went out
with pockets full of dreams
and came back
in picture frames.

A mother
each night
dusts her child's face
and softly asks:

‘Aren't you cold?’

A father
no longer calls his son's name
aloud;
he is afraid
the house will fill again
with the sound of weeping.

My land
for years
has buried its young
and left their mothers
old.

But still
a lamp burns beside that frame;
a lamp that
a mother's tears
will not allow
to go out.

Source: https://srouzbeh.com/en/posts/entry-1790983274908-b174b63b
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