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Poets

Majid Naficy
To the Children of Prison and Exile

 

After the silence of firing squads

Still it burns in our hearts

And we carry their corpses

On our broken backs.

I want to turn this death into life.

How many companions,

Who in these years of defeat and execution

Created life from an embryo?

I am talking about the children of prison and exile:

Cheshmeh, Roza, and Sulmaz.

I want to turn this death into life

That like a jug of water

Becomes filled with the freshness of Cheshmeh,

And like a red rose

Blooms from the lips of Roza,

And like the word “sulmaz”

Becomes evergreen.

I will sift, grind, and soften this death,

Until the children of prison and exile

Mold it into playdough.

I am calling you,

O newborns of years of pain,

The crocodiles in your painting

Have no teeth,

Because the names of their friends

Never crossed their lips.

I want to turn this death into a poem,

That can be read like magic

When the corpse of a butterfly

Carried by ants

Makes you remember the dead ones.

I want to turn this death into life.

 

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