Unable
Friday
The weekend for Muslims
No class, means at home
Media are like bugs
All around
And news:
Line for food in “ISIS”
Women in uniform “Syria”
Bam’s life is misery “South Iran”
They curse me and my mind.
Crazy; I want out.
Then comes he
The old man, Sheikh Saadi
“Shame on you, how can you? ”
Icicle his poem, falls, in penetrates.
“Then, please tie me down.”
I raise palms to ears
Holding head
On the sides
“Why the hell was I born?
Why like this, and caring?
Why so long, so learning? ”
Long breathe…then again:
“Either mind with good heart
And power to help, give
Or dumbness, foolishness
Like I see in leaders…
God, please”
I shout, sit
As I did in the cell
Unable…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem