Fly to Iran

Fly to Iran



Poetry

  Write for The Iranian
Editorial policy

Pilgrimage from America to Iran



By Roger Sedarat
February 28, 2002
The Iranian



Your heart is a sour cherry in rice;

steam surrounds you, moist white

like a cumulus cloud

hiding a jagged pinnacle. A spot



of sun comes bitter on the eyes;

I am having lunch in a village

with my grandfather; my squinting

cuts the Zargos to a strip the size



of a blade of saffron. All the while

the thought of you back in Texas

sticks to me here, as I bite

into tadeq, the front of my head



smarting from seeing you in your red

dress, without a chador, kissing me

goodbye. More than puckered lips,

I miss the twisted strands of your hair,



the way you'd stand over me in bed

like an Iranian Rupunzel before leaving

for work. Woman of my two countries,

I could whirl on one perfumed spiral



up this mountain like a dervish, my head

pounding with Zarathustrian thunder,

your tears dancing on my sunburned face

like lines of Khyaam read on a train.


With you here heat and bearded soldiers

are no longer oppressive. Near the apex

I open my eyes and am surrounded,

like a pilgrim, by untouched snow.

Comment for The Iranian letters section
Comment for the poet Roger Sedarat


Fly to Iran
ALSO
By Roger Sedarat

Persian Haiku
Poem

RELATED

Poetry featured in iranian.com

SECTIONS

* Latest

* Covers

* Writers

* Arts & lit

* All sections

Copyright © Iranian.com All Rights Reserved. Legal Terms for more information contact: times@iranian.com
Web design by BTC Consultants
Internet server Global Publishing Group