"Open Your Eyes" poem by Eric Alai

Eric Alai
by Eric Alai
02-Jul-2009
 

I wonder if pres. Monkey imagined that
his daughter might lie there
in the street where I saw the
faces of my sisters
in Neda’s face after she fell
with her eyes looking at me and
her father telling her,
“Open your eyes, open your eyes!”

My heart bursts for those who suffer,
even the Sharpshooter,
who put Neda in his sight, burst the
heart of Neda for theological “right.”
Sharpshooter—what do you think of while you lie
in bed at night after you’ve taken off your
bullet belts, holsters, and helmet?
Sharpshooter—did they order you to shoot one,
an order from Bearded Turban Man and Monkey?
Afterward, did you joke with your comrades,
saying “What a shot!”
Or did you cry in the darkness of your room while your
bullet belts, holsters, and helmet lay on your dresser?

Biker Baboons and their vroom, vroom, vrooms down
streets with iron mallets, playing polo, and the
young and old stumble, bloody, broken bones,
toward the eyes of the cell phones.

pres. Monkey, Bearded Turban Man,
Sharpshooter, and Biker Baboon
claim spirituality, yet they kill
spirit, silence voices—
how can that be,
that in this they rejoice?
They silence spirit,
silencing freedom.

Their crime not only a crime against one,
but billions—us.
Neda is all of humanity.

One morning soon as they
begin to put on their garb, they
will decide not to, they
will decide, finally, to open their eyes.

Balatarin
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parrvy

poetry

by parrvy on Tue Jul 28, 2009 12:34 PM PDT

Thanks...for both poems. kisseshugs


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Eric Alai

Powerful poem, Jill Friend

by Eric Alai on Sat Jul 18, 2009 12:01 PM PDT

Wow! This poem blew me away! There is such strong allegory there and also the inspiring and indomitable spirit of defiance in the face of oppression.


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jill friend

I read it and wrote you this, as promised. :)

by jill friend on Wed Jul 15, 2009 09:24 AM PDT

Wednesday, July 15, 2009 A revisionist's address.

Current mood:responsive research

Category: Blogging

when the finches nests are frosted
and women die in their nightmare of a proverbially cold tortoise,
our loss is the last words spoken,
unbroken,
as thought echoing
in our black pupils
from her grief
find Ceres' daughters:
"send one into the breast of yonder dark monarch, who rules the realm....
Why should he alone escape? Seize the opportunity to
extend your empire and mine. Do you not see that even in heaven
some despise our power?

Defy us; and there is that daughter of Ceres, who threatens to follow
their example. now do you, if you have any regard for your own
interest or mine, join these two in one."

She screamed for help to her mother and companions; and
when in her fright she dropped the corners of her apron
and let the flowers fall, child-like she felt the loss of them as
and addition to her grief."


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Neda's poem

by ShahlaSR (not verified) on Fri Jul 03, 2009 07:39 PM PDT

beautiful and sad
thank you for remembering all the murdered sisters
and for the hope that we will all open our eyes


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