To a Journalist in Prison

To a Journalist in Prison
by Majid Naficy

Oh, street soul!

I see you sitting there

in your metal box

Near the Blue Bus,

And no finger taps

On your glass pane

Save for drops of rain.

I stop and in dim light

Gaze at your red letters

Which, like the bullets of guards

Shot at the silent marchers

On the green streets of Tehran,

Hit my temples and chest

Hot, all hot.

I go, but you stay

Oh, street witness!

At all crossroads of the world

Displaying yourself

Behind your glass pane,

And no tyrant dare erase

Your bold letters

From your paper chest.  

October 14, 2009


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Azadeh Azad

Thank you, dear Majid

by Azadeh Azad on

for being versed in the bullet-proof power of the bold, red letters on the paper chest of this witness soul on the green streets of Tehran.

We shall overcome!