War At Iran --- A Poem Poem by Natasa To

Smoke rises where the sun once rose,

echoes of dawn drowned in thunder;

cities shudder under iron skies,

and children dream in shattered rooms.



Voice of the elder fades in blast,

flags torn between grief and rage;

names unspoken lie in dust —

small hands that once held pencils

now turned into stars of memory.



Steel birds carve lines through sky,

their echoes scream of promises broken,

and in distant lands, the winds carry

fear like a cold whisper at midnight.



Sirens wail for mothers' tears,

for fathers pacing empty doorways,

for futures lost in flaming wreckage

while distant leaders speak of goals

that only grow as ghosts in counting rooms.



Where once the call to prayer

mixed with laughter at sunrise,

now silence weighs on shuttered streets

and hope — a fragile, trembling thing —

struggles beneath the rubble.



Yet in hearts that still beat

amid what war has scrawled in ruin,

a softer pulse refuses to relent:

for peace, for quiet mornings,

for bread and laughter once again.