From Tehran to Freedom – repost

1489052_782626645085066_1585381801_n

In Tehran,
The crows fly
Above the prison’s bar,
One by one,
Carry nothing,
Except fear.
In Tehran,
Pedestrians must wait
A life time
If they follow the law
To cross.
Unending wait
for the next stop light’s green.
In Tehran,
Sun doesn’t know
Where to set,
Mountains are disappeared
Behind the smokes.
In Tehran,
Original is a dream,
And everything else
is a version,
a copy,
an imitate of real.
In Tehran,
All birds
must fill out a form
Before they break
The sky’s limit,
Must chain their wings,
To burden
Painfully,
cry” we are still here”…
In Tehran,
Memories are
the only free zone,
That people could walk in peace.
The present,
Is full of hardship,
injustice,
violence is the norm,
and kindness is a luxury
that no one could even wish.
In Tehran,
My heart is a prisoner
Who tries to forget the reasons,
And surrender to what it is
Yet, most of the days,
pain speaks her.
Only hope
Knocks on my door
once in a while,
In a middle of nightmares,
To whisper…
Soon, soon
you will depart.
In Tehran,
Gardens are caged
Between guns,
And children
Are not allowed
To chase butterflies.
Dreams are forbidden,
Being yourself
is a crime.
In Tehran,
Poets are cautious
with words,
Passion is no longer a trend.
Guitar players,
Forget how to play
all strings.
Music is a senseless act
of a victim
sentenced to a gas chamber,
smelling a red rose.
Behind walls
Fear breathes,
Low and close.
Anytime, anyone
Could break in
To plunder someone’s life,
And no advertisement for
human’s right
in the city hall.
The burden in my heart
Is a longing of a nation,
To be met again,
In freedom,
To share simple things,
Without fear,
To be a creation of love
Bow again
In fields of lovers and passion,
To Rumi, hazif and khayam.
In Tehran,
Many years ago,
I used to climb
High mountains,
“Inhale fresh air,
See beautiful wild flowers,
Smell and eat abeh gosht*
Rest in stillness shade,
Drink mint tea,
Steal kisses from clouds,”
It wasn’t just me,
It was everyone’s tale,
In laugh,
in happiness,
living in light.
Now,
we call those days,
Untouchable memories…
In Tehran,
I packed and unpacked,
Many suitcases,
many times, each journey
unfolded a bit of path that I was on,
consciousness on a rise!
This time,
I pack my longings,
They don’t take much space,
One small pack,
tagged in the name of god.
I leave behind
All belongings, possessions,
In a recycle bin.
I wait for no one,
I know after summer,
Autumn will brings
The right wind.
I take back my wings,
Free of all chains,
Attachments, beliefs, stories.
I shall fly to a new life,
Somewhere else
will welcome,
My wandering soul,
With open hands.
I will plant a new me
In its fresh soil.
I make a kite of
the pages of
my poetry,
and my heart
roars
in silence.
* Abeh Gosht A persian food made by lamb stew
© Serena Devi,

From Tehran to freedom

I was born in England and grew up in Tehran. I never felt I belong to Iran, my family relations brought me back few times and every time I left, I understood my own heart better. Today, I know, I only belong to myself, to freedom and unconditional love. I hope one day, Iran be free of fear and the shadows and belong to itself.

In Tehran,
The crows fly
Above the prison’s bar,
One by one,
Carry nothing,
Except fear.

In Tehran,
Pedestrians must wait
A life time
If they follow the law
To cross.
Unending wait
for the next stop light’s green.

In Tehran,
Sun doesn’t know
Where to set,
Mountains are disappeared
Behind the smokes.

In Tehran,
Original is a dream,
And everything else
is a version,
a copy,
an imitate of real.

In Tehran,
All birds
must fill out a form
Before they break
The sky’s limit,
Must chain their wings,
To burden
Painfully,
cry” we are still here”…

In Tehran,
Memories are
the only free zone,
That people could walk in peace.

The present,
Is full of hardship,
injustice,
violence is the norm,
and kindness is a luxury
that no one could even wish.

In Tehran,
My heart is a prisoner
Who tries to forget the reasons,
And surrender to what it is
Yet, most of the days,
pain speaks her.

Only hope
Knocks on my door
once in a while,
In a middle of nightmares,
To whisper…
Soon, soon
you will depart.

In Tehran,
Gardens are caged
Between guns,
And children
Are not allowed
To chase butterflies.
Dreams are forbidden,
Being yourself
is a crime.

In Tehran,
Poets are cautious
with words,
Passion is no longer a trend.
Guitar players,
Forget how to play
all strings.
Music is a senseless act
of a victim
sentenced to a gas chamber,
smelling a red rose.

Behind walls
Fear breathes,
Low and close.
Anytime, anyone
Could break in
To plunder someone’s life,
And no advertisement for
human’s right
in the city hall.

The burden in my heart
Is a longing of a nation,
To be met again,
In freedom,
To share simple things,
Without fear,
To be a creation of love
Bow again
In fields of lovers and passion,
To Rumi, hazif and khayam.

In Tehran,
Many years ago,
I used to climb
High mountains,
“Inhale fresh air,
See beautiful wild flowers,
Smell and eat abeh gosht*
Rest in stillness shade,
Drink mint tea,
Steal kisses from clouds,”
It wasn’t just me,
It was everyone’s tale,
In laugh,
in happiness,
living in light.
Now,
we call those days,
Untouchable memories…

In Tehran,
I packed and unpacked,
Many suitcases,
many times, each journey
unfolded a bit of path that I was on,
consciousness on a rise!

This time,
I pack my longings,
They don’t take much space,
One small pack,
tagged in the name of god.
I leave behind
All belongings, possessions,
In a recycle bin.

I wait for no one,
I know after summer,
Autumn will brings
The right wind.
I take back my wings,
Free of all chains,
Attachments, beliefs, stories.
I shall fly to a new life,
Somewhere else
will welcome,
My wandering soul,
With open hands.
I will plant a new me
In its fresh soil.

I make a kite of
the pages of
my poetry,
and my heart
roars
in silence.

* Abeh Gosht A persian food made by lamb stew

© Serena Devi, June 2011

To my beloved land, Iran

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

<