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.
Blades of injustice have ripped through Women’s mind leaving one million signs of Pain behind one million wounds to mend Under bruised skies of a bloodthirsty trend.
But in this darkest field of steel weeds And strangler vines there are gentle breeds Of swaying blossoms splashing stars that turn The darkness into light stillness into dancing With glancing floods of love on the lights Of Cyrus Cylinder first charter of human rights Dreaming not of a Saviour not of a Clown Who is like no one but of themselves alone The way they ought to be when they’re awake.
They go on the road door to door quarter To quarter city to village voicing words Passing pamphlets enacting ordeals collecting Signatures in support of changes to tribal laws Against women in defiance of sordid men With thickened crevices in their brains.
They go through revolving doors Of Evin jail, of the Dark Ages minds In the language of quiet change convicted Of pregnancy with the concept of Women’s parity in all realms of life.
They emerge from that hell with celebrations Gather in each other’s houses refresh their vows And keep at it hard and heavy till Enlightenment Comes in to win their rights in the Year of One.
For now one million signs of pain blaze and burn Into their One Million Signatures Campaign As the curves of their minds become new paths To the garden of fair play and their persistence Opens the floodgates to their righteous way.
May one day victory of daughters Of Anahita be rejoiced by everyone Throwing flowers into the Goddess’s Flowing waters in not so far future.