Nightheart

I was never any good with writing beautiful things,
so I have to resort to painting tragedies.
I was never any good with watercolors. 

My hair is growing long, 
and I wonder if this is the end of the world. 

i hold honey in my tea and hope. hope is strangely like honey these days it never rots no matter how long we keep it in a dusty cupboard.

the story of my people 
is a tragedy, will drip with sadness
like a poets pen,

how could a land of poetry 
be anything but a tragedy, where the 
sky opens up and pours like a wound

We watch the news and 
fear. 

There are angry tears 
a lot, nowadays. 

Being an Iranian 
in America is terrifying 
sometimes, 

knowing that both the countries

Justice is not blind, 

justice knows the colors
painted onto our skin, 

justive knows the way 
men look at your dress, 

justice is familiar with
the way they twist your name,

white space is suffocating

i cannot tell you the first time 
i felt i was different. 

in fact, the inherent privelige of 
american white people is to be able