People see us together,
Call our names loud,
Lovers, seeker of a hidden corner,
To make love.

Only the sun knows,
We are only strangers,
Live and walk in exile,
On the unmarked path
We are crusaders of the light.

Fire,
Bind us together,
Where no land,
Has the power
Or authority to accept
and promise us
A lifetime belong.
So we make houses on winds.
We write bestsellers every day,
Full of farewells and cry
for what we left behind.
We rehearsal and play
Our returning
From this long exile,
In different languages,
by our refugee men and women,
Everywhere.

Fire,
Bind us together,
When no water could move
Our tiny Islands
Closer to our beloved land.

We surrender,
To the forceful fate
Of separation,
By these unwelcome aliens.

We passed on
Our ideas, our hopes,
To true followers of the light.
The dream to unite again,
As one family and a nation.

Nothing could take away
The pain we felt
What we learnt from
Hardness of the last thirty years,
Living in exile
The ones stayed behind,
Have their own story to share,
Captive and chained
Whiped every day by terror and violence.
Living under the shadow of fear.

People say, nothing is left for us,
but I say, we still have ‘Us”.

Fire,
Bind us together,
People see us
As lovers, seek runaway place,
but we know
In our hearts,
Nothing could keep us apart
From our pride as a nation.
From Rumi, Hafez, Khayam,
From Nouroz and feast of love,
From our kind and hospitable culture
And our 2500 years of glorious history.

I never admitted before,
So clear, so loud,
That I love our land, Iran.

Perhaps, for now,
No water brings our separated Islands
In one place,
Close to our beloved land,
but we will gather together,
We all return, one day,
To our motherland, Iran.

We stay in exile,
but our longings live
In your north, in Caspian sea,
In your south, In Persian Gulf,
In the heart of Desert Lute,
Under Qashgai tribes’ tents,
Over Mount Damanvad.

It is our promise to you.
One day, we all return.

© Serena Devi, March 2010, Thornhill Canada

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