The Red Street Poem by John M. Marshall

The Red Street

(for Neda Agha Soltan)


The streets are broad in Tehran,
thirsty for sustenance;
soldiers of the supremacy
will provide it
full measure,
not with water
but with blood,
running like a river
into the gutters of Kargar Avenue.

The colors of oppression
are shades of red,
sprinkled with droplets
of fear and grief,
piercing like a lance
the heart of hope,
strangling like a rope
the throat of faith.

As innocence dies
on the ruby road,
the masters of murder
sit in their tents
covering their ears,
mouths and eyes,
secure in their falsehood,
oblivious to their crimes.

These are the times
of suffering and sorrow;
desolation reigns
in the soul of Iran.


Copyright © 2009 John M. Marshall