Mama in the war
March 26, 2003
The Iranian
You took us,
your children,
under your hands, mama,
beneath the steps of our home's first floor,
to protect us from the bombs.
You never slept
and in the hot summer nights
your only mission
was our safety.
You are my president mama,
you and all those women,
who protected
and still defend their children
against pregnant-with-hatred
soldiers of death
... all around the world...
Under the bombs, you showed no fear.
The drastic changes in our lives,
you took
quiet and peaceful
with your inner love and belief
and tried to dispel,
the terror of death
from filled-with-fear eyes
of your children.
You made a new reform of solidarity
and elections of bravery
in our home.
You drove us to
the polished satisfaction
of holding each other's hands
through the rough times...
In the deepest corners of my memory,
deep in my heart,
deep in my thoughts,
of blackouts
and no candlelight,
I could see your blond hair,
brown eyes
and comforting face.
My vote goes to you, Mama.
Does this article have spelling or other mistakes? Tell me to fix it.
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