Shiva Shakoori


Aztec Exhibition In British Museum - Poem by Shiva Shakoori

A stone carving of a bird, scary building full of skulls, hearts in a serpent's bowl
colourful feathers which one day were standing proudly on the head of warriors, broken gold shields, blue ornaments on the warriors dress

Whistling wind, angry thunder, last breath before the last scream,
The sound of stab that takes the heart out of the young body through the harmony of sacrificial mantras

The great god of Aztecs with his aggressive, hateful hard eyes
The vibration of strong belief to the most destructive energy in nature

Warm blood, gun powder, cold wind in the wild mountain
Dead bodies, war in the air,

Sourness of blood, bitterness of broken pride
Salt of tears washed my dry lips.

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, February 11, 2010

Poem Edited: Tuesday, August 7, 2012


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