I Protest 

For Ateke Rajabi*


Greetings to you 

Look at me carefully
I am a protestor—

an elementary school teacher 
from a village in Khorasan*— 

I joined nationwide protests and strikes
refused to collaborate with Education Ministry
as they allow revolutionary guards 
to enter schools
threaten, arrest, jail, and kill students

They have turned schools into military barracks—
do not protect students’ rights— 

Look at me carefully
I am a protestor 

I am not armed
Look at my hands: 
They are empty 

I have neither attacked anyone
nor have I damaged any property

In the streets
I only chanted for freedom
demanded the right 
to express myself
with no fear

I only protested 
for freedom of speech

If, on a day like tomorrow,
like so many others, 

I am no longer among you, 
this video is for that day

so that you know 
why I protested 

I am in complete health—
have no underlying conditions  

I don’t love to be thrown down
from heights

In complete mental health
I protested in the streets 
with empty hands—

Look at me carefully
I am a protestor

--
*The poem is based on the contents of a video posted by Ateke Rajabi on her Instagram account on October 8, 2022, as well as some previous videos.  
*Khorasan: Province in Iran

Girls against Misogyny*


In coded language 
in a sermon
the Ayatollah instructed 
his devout thugs 
to punish the youth led astray by the enemy

Decode: 
“Punish”:  unleash horror, use violence—
savage and unbound—

Decode: 
“Led astray”: defying hijab decree

Decode: 
“Enemy”: “Universal Declaration of Human Rights,”
“Equality,” “Women’s Rights”  

They got to work

Decode: 
“They”: 
Muslim hardliners—
Revolutionary Guards—
Basij militia—
Plainclothes forces—

It started in Qom* 
and spread through the country

In girls’ schools
first, they smelled 
a decaying tangerine

Then, came
headaches, nausea, shortness of breath,
limpness of limbs, loss of consciousness—

Thousands were gassed
A few died—

The security ordered the media 
not to mention biological terror attacks—
warned hospitals not to release findings

Parents were beaten for demanding an investigation —
Protesting students arrested—

In a country 
quick to arrest for posting 
dance videos on social media 
and to hand out ten-year jail sentences* 

no one has been arrested for the attacks
no findings released—
no one held accountable

People chant:  
“Our enemy is here. 
They lie to us when they say
it’s America!”* 

Decode: 
“Our enemy”: The Islamic Republic 
“Here”: Iran

“Our enemy” is hell-bound to teach our youth
a lesson in submission—

but the people will prevail 
and so will
woman, life, and freedom 
--

* https://www.bbc.com/news/world-middle-east-64797957 
* City in Iran 
* https://www.bbc.com/news/world-middle-east-64470506 
* دشمن ما همین جاست. دروغ می گن آمریکاست. 

Mr Daghigh



Mr Daghigh was anything but daghigh* 

He wasn’t young; he wasn’t old
He wasn’t thin; he wasn’t round 

Sometimes he would forget
to pick us up after school
like that time he forgot Zahra

and I couldn’t stop crying
until I saw her brought home on a bike
by a teenager—a local clergyman’s son—
who happened to be in Pir-e-Alam*  
and gave her a ride to our home

Mr Daghigh was anything but daghigh

Maybe our parents chose him
because he attended the mosque 
and had a beard—

We used to go to the
Islamic school for girls
far from home

School buses did not exist back then—
still don’t—

Mr Daghigh was not daghigh at all

like that time he wanted 
to back up his newly-bought
van and asked us kids to direct him—
looking out the windows— 
and bumped against the lamppost 

Mr Daghigh was not daghigh
but he was fun 

On good days after school
on the highway he would ask:

Kids! 
Straight or zigzag? 

And, like a good kid, he would listen—
zigzag to right and left—

Sometimes the sliding door 
at the back would open
without him noticing

We didn’t mind
and were happy he didn’t, either

Wherever he may be now
I hope he is still surrounded
by fellow-kids

--


*Precise 
* Pir-e Alam is a local Shiite shrine in Babol, Mazandaran, Iran. Literally: the Pir of Alam (war standard). Alam is one of the ritual objects used in Ashura processions, a Shiite ritual commemorating the martyrdom of the third Shiite Muslim Imam, Hussain. 

About the Poet:

Bänoo Zan is a poet, librettist, translator, teacher, editor and curator with over 250 published poems and poetry-related pieces as well as three books, including Songs of Exile and Letters to My Father. She is the founder of Shab-e She’r (Poetry Night), Canada’s most diverse poetry reading and open mic series (inception: 2012), a brave space that bridges the gap between communities of poets from different ethnicities, nationalities, religions (or lack thereof), ages, genders, sexual orientations, disabilities, poetic styles, voices, and visions. Bänoo is the Writer-in-Residence at the University of Alberta, Canada, Sept 2022-May 2023.

Books:

Songs of Exile, Guerncia Editions

Letters to My Father, Piquant Press

The post Poems by Bänoo Zan first appeared on Prachya Review.

                                                                                          for Cy Strom

You escape

into my eyes

Your silence

rains

on nothing

but now

Etymologies

cling

onto your sweat

and riddles

dispel

magic

I am the dream

you wish

you never wake up

from

You are the ransom

of conflicts

forgotten

The minaret

of your synagogue

recites my azan

I whirl

around earthquakes

of déjà vu

I have

met you—

in lovers not in love—

in love turned lover—

written lines

on the face

you think

is me

You are a godless

shrine

and I take you

with arms

open to faith

Gord-Äfarïd*

At war with the world

at peace with the self—

have I won or lost?

in the bloodless bloodshed

of either-or—

a pahlavan*

of epic silence

Which breast do I dispose of?

being left-hearted

Versifier,

I would’ve challenged you

had I not been the verse

My mirror-smeared

curls of courage

untold for romantic

cover

In bed with the battlefield—

a hero fighting me with love

Taking arms

against the arms of war

I envy the object of my love

At war with the self

at peace with the world

have I lost

or lost?

*Gurdāfarīd, literally “of heroic mettle,” is one of the heroines in the Shāhnāmeh, “The Book of Kings” or “The Epic of Kings”, by Firdawsī. She was a champion who fought against Sohrab, the son of epic hero Rostam. On his quest to find his heroic father whom he has never met, Sohrab encounters a knight in full armour. In the middle of the fight, the unknown knight’s helmet falls off and a woman, Gord_Äfarïd, is revealed. Sohrab stops the battle, falls in love and asks her to marry him. He is rejected on the grounds that “the Turks do not seek consorts from among Iranians.”
*Persian, an ethical hero

About the Poet:

Bänoo Zan has been writing poetry since the age of ten and has published more than 80 poems, translations, biographies, and articles. She is the founder and host of Shab-e She’r (Poetry Night), the most diverse of its kind in Toronto. For more than two years, Shab-e She’r has been bridging the gap between diverse poetry communities, bringing together people from different ethnicities, nationalities, ages, disabilities, religions (or lack thereof), genders, sexual orientations, poetic styles, voices and visions.  https://www.facebook.com/groups/poetry.gallery.toronto/

The post Two Poems by Bänoo Zan first appeared on Prachya Review.