Echoes Over Iran Poem by Natasa To

The mountains keep what voices cannot say,
Old winds still carry names through dust and dawn.
The sky remembers every broken day,
Long after smoke and thunder both are gone.

A child folds hope into a paper bird,
And sends it past the echoes of the night.
No speech is louder than a whispered word
That dreams of homes with open doors and light.

The earth bears footprints, heavy, worn, and deep;
The rivers mourn what history has known.
Yet seeds are faithful, even where they sleep,
They reach through shattered stone to find the sun.

May every border learn what hearts have known:
No victory outweighs a life at peace.
When weapons fall at last to silent stone,
May grief give way, and endless wars may cease.