For Neda, Still

 

I have not forgotten your song.

Six years on;

I hear it stronger now.

With time, the burn fades

the sting soothes.

But scars remain.

Ever a reminder,

of the sacrifice.
How can I forget?

When so much work

is still left undone.
If all we are

is nothing more than the dust of stars,

then is it any wonder?

That six years later, the memory of you

still burns bright?

Like the celestial bodies on high,

Your light still reaches us

Here,

Neda.


 

I wrote this second poem, for Neda Agha-Soltan, in June of 2015.
I’m posting it here as this week it has been eight years since she died.

In classic Persian, the word Neda, means voice. In many ways, and to many people, Neda is the voice of Iran.

It’s known that Neda herself was an underground musician. She was not a political activist, and hadn’t supported any particular candidate in the election – but she was a citizen, marching in support of her fellow citizens, her fellow musicians, her fellow women. She did not want to be a revolutionary, or a hero, she was just a young woman who wanted to help.

Everyday, another person like Neda is lost, to senseless violence – to war and hate-crimes.

I encourage you to spare a moment to think of them, and what they sacrifice to simply live as you and I do. The dead are only ever forgotten, when we choose not to remember them.

If you’d like to see the first poem I wrote for Neda, you can read it here