A strand of my hair
A poem on the onset of a revolution!
A strand of my hair, deemed holy grail
Leads to a bloodbath, a river of tears that prevail
Cities now echo with yells and cries,
Of those who have had enough of the lies
Only they know this strand won’t poison the beholder’s eyes,
It’s just a dead molecule, no pain when cut with scissors’ slice
I laugh at those who associated their dignity and respect with this strand
As if the universe needs a cover to hide the shallowness of man.
Humans, cover all your heads, for the depth of your intellect is small
As much as this pale blue dot on which we stand tall
All heads, strands, bodies, faces, lives must be hidden, unseen
For it is a sin to reach for sunlight, to breathe and to be free and keen
To show or be careless about that one strand of hair.
A beginner’s poem on Mahsa Amini ’s tragic fate in Iran, it delves into the symbolism surrounding a seemingly insignificant strand of hair. The paradoxical nature of the society where the expression of individuality and freedom is stifled, and where the pursuit of dignity and respect becomes entangled in shallow perceptions.
