POETRY

Today
New York bent down
And cried
In the Atlantic waters

She sustained a wound
To her spine

Then she remembered
The old wounds of her kids
From the Netherlands and Ireland
From black Africa
From Poland and the Ukraine
And the oases  of the Holy Land

No! She will rise again
And let the sun
Shine on her face
And her children
Will hold hands
And come back to dance
Around her whirling skirt

September 11, 2001
[Original in Persian]