Translated by Saba Vasefi


My body,

a combat zone of male wars

in which I've lived a life.

I longed to break the cocoons,

to ascend

with wings of my own design and grace,

yet, like a butterfly pinned to a wall,

I was surrounded by endless confinement.

A hostage, never traded for freedom

in the darkness, I search for my own shadow.


The sting of threat,

an acid attack,

injected into my bones,

by the ache of wandering,


and forced separation.


In every battle,

a shard of fear,

stripped away.


I cast it into the fire's sear,

and in sandals’ blisters

I dug until courage, so just,

but in those hovering roots,

I lay my trust.


Spring has now arrived,

though I have aged in separation's tide.

My wounds flourished,

destiny’s mouth is filled

with a salty sound.


With each blow

new leaves burst into life.

In silence,

I grieve for those I've lost,

like my father, who departed

on a one-way path, with no return.

On the shoulder of night's stillness,

my son's eyes and mine,

his gaze,

a mirror reflecting my own,

alone, nameless, faceless, our identity unknown.

Wandering without a space to claim,

justice as a merchant's game,

peacemaking shrouded in power's haze.


As I gaze into my son's eyes,

justice lingers there,

yet it's dwarfed inside,

the destinies we share like signatures,

in the hands of others.

Our fates intertwined

on this uncertain ride

side by side.