A poem by Shiva Moghaddasi
I hear you.
I hear your hushed voice.
I feel your pain and pained myself,
at being far away,
unable to help,
when you needed a hand, an ear, a shoulder.
I hear you,
I hear your hushed cries, fists, and tears.
As clear as the nightingale's song.
Lest you be alone, sister,
lest I forget your cries for help.