Hamid: A Poem on Exile for Iran




How much
is the
Soul
of
A Broken
Man
Worth?

How heavy
his
misfortune
OR
is
misfortune
destiny?

Siblings
scattered
like
dandelion
seeds
blown by
the blast
of
"revolution"

Let me explain:

We meet
for
coffee
you
disheveled
can not
sleep
following
the news
as if one
day it
will be
declared:

You can go home Hamid.

You wait
for the
impossible
under a
lavender-colored
sky
you wait for
man
to come
to his
Senses...

as I sit
my coffee
turns
cold
and all
I can do
is listen
at the stories
of funerals
unattended
bureaucratic
blunders
and a marriage
that
buckles
under the
strain.

Your hairline
is receding,
your eyes are
red,
You are
heartbroken
Hamid
and I
want to take
your hand
and say,
and pray,
that Hamid
I am sorry
for Turkey,
I am sorry
for the Ayatollah
I am sorry for it all
but today,
today,
I am happy,
that we
sit here,
together, NOW
and drink
cold coffee
as I listen
to you laugh
at the fate
of your life

and you come
alive again,
if just
for one moment
because in that
moment,
you are
alive
with
Me.

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