Archive - Mar 8, 2009 - Article

I’m Wrong, You’re Right, Alright?

Over 30 years ago in Tehran, I worked with an American who was a native of Virginia and had spent most of his life in the Middle East working on engineering projects. He had lived and worked in such countries as Iran, Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, and many Persian Gulf States. We used to discuss many topics from life in America to historical sites in Iran, and of course politics. He showed a great deal of interest in Iran and the people of Middle East. I asked him after spending so many years in Iran and the region, what he thought was the biggest problem facing the people? His answer amazed me to this date>>>

Believe

I just finished reading yet another article regarding the Bahai faith in the Iranian. It seems as if the more I read about such topics, the more I realize how closed-minded we remain. I do not practice any organized religion, yet I do respect them all for bringing peace to a majority of mankind. Years ago, when my children asked me about my faith and wanted to know what theirs should be, I told them I believe in a supreme power, one far beyond man's understanding. And, when they wanted to know to whom I prayed, my response began with stories of the old telephone system and how people needed an operator to be connected.>>>

شنا

شنبه صبح وقتی داشتم ناهار درست می کردم، افشین زنگ زد و گفت سرما خورده نمیتونه بیاد. گفتم "تو چله’ تابستون چه وقت سرماخوردگیه، طفلکی!" سر ظهر آمد. پسر بیست و پنج شش ساله’ خوش قد و بالایی بود و موهاشو پشت سرش دمب اسبی کرده بود. نهار آوردم. یک پارچ سانگریای خوشرنگ و خوشمزه هم درست کرده بودم که با هم می خوردیم و گپ میزدیم. صحبتمان بعد از نهار به خانواده اش و تحصیلش کشید. دانشجوی دکترا بود. تعجب کردم. گفتم حتما خیلی باهوشی! لبخند خجولی زد. نمیدونم چرا شیطون رفته بود زیر پوستم و دلم می خواست سر بسرش بذارم. پرسید "افشین خان نمیان؟" تازه یادم افتاد بهش بگم افشین سرما خورده. یادم آمد بهش گفته بودم میتونه بره استخر. گفتم "دلت می خواد بری شنا؟" گفت "تنهایی؟ نه." گفتم "باشه منم باهات میام." >>>

Handwriting

You cross your 't's and dot your 'i's
And there is no missing hump in your 'm's
You loop your 'y's, 'j'  and 'g's
And your words do not fall below the lines
Your paper shines like marble
And your words are deeply etched
As if you were a rock climber
Who pounds the nail in the rock
To make steady footholds >>>

One Million signs of pain

On the splendid plateau of my land
For the last thirty years of choked breath
Cloaked bearded men of Islamic brand
Time-traveller tyrants from old Arabia
Have planted phallic bars of Sharia Law
And celebrated dark demons of deceit
With dictators of worst kind in command >>>