A fleeting, firefly, she seemed
Trampled to dust, to, never rise
Which, moral ritual, she blasphemed
To pay, life’s price, for, clergy’s lies!
“Her flame, will die”, those, who, dismissed
Are, all consumed, in her ire
Every home, outraged, every street, is blitzed
Iran’s ethos, spits, hellfire!
Braids, of womanhood, chopped in, public glare
Black Hijabs, of shame, tossed, in pyres
Whose funeral, is this, faith or fear
Or, the clerics, laid out, in their biers!
Iran, will change, at last, it seems
Its passion, for redemption, knows
A freedom’s dream, annihilates, all regimes
The Spark, That Lights, All Infernos!
© 2022 Vikas Chandra