I don't believe that we have the right to interfere in others' troubles, especially when we are rife with our own. I believe that God has a hand in everything, and that we can only offer ours when asked. Obama is doing right to let the Iranians struggle on their own. As painful as it is to watch, it's not our fight. We can afford neither the costs militarily or diplomatically. Still, it does not keep me from weeping for all of those young people pushing for change and receiving the butt of a gun in response. Instead, I will read and listen to their words, act as a silent witness, and pray.
A Poem by Zahra Mousavi
Let the wolves know that in our tribe
If the father dies, his gun will remain
Even if all the men of the tribe are killed
A baby son will remain in the wooden cradle.
I am Neda
by Sholeh Wolpe, an Iranian-American poet
Leave the Basiji bullet in my heart,
fall to prayer in my blood,
and hush, father
--I am not dead.
More light than mass,
I rise through you,
breathe with your eyes,
stand in your shoes, on the rooftops,
in the streets, march with you
in the cities and villages of our country
shouting through you, with
you.
I am Neda--thunder on your tongue.
by Sohrab Sepehri
We should go under the rain.
We should wash our eyes,
And we should see the world in a different way.
Not Here
by Rumi, the great 13th Century Persian (and Islamic) poet
There's courage involved if you want
to become truth. There is a broken-
open place in a lover. Where are
those qualities of bravery and sharp
compassion in this group? What's the
use of old and frozen thought? I want
a howling hurt. This is not a treasury
where gold is stored; this is for copper.
We alchemists look for talent that
can heat up and change. Lukewarm
won't do. Halfhearted holding back,
well-enough getting by? Not here.
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