The Prose of a Spring in War


3/31/03

By: Roya Monajem, Tehran

royamonajem@yahoo.com



1 Despair

This year, spring bloomed with the blood of men instead of red poppies and tulips in the ancient land of Mesopotamia. The rivers Tigris and Euphrates were deluged with tears instead of flood of the melting snows. This year, spring could not weave the gorgeous lace of blossoms over this Cradle of Civilization. This year, instead of swallows, Iron birds spread the happy news of the arrival of spring on the ancient shores of Tigris and Euphrates.

This year the fields of Mesopotamia are plowed by bombs and missiles and patched by military tanks, instead of ploughshares pulled by warm kind hands of farmers.

This year, instead of the sweet fragrance of violets, hyacinths and angelicas, the bitter scent of destruction, despair and death is impregnating the heavenly air of spring.

This year instead of the soothing song of humming birds and nightingales, the anxious cry of iron birds break the deadly silence of the escaping winter and instead of the charming light of newly hatched glowworms, the agonizing light of anti-aircrafts illumines the night.

This year as handsome blades of grass and coquettish primroses jeweled with morning dews dance merrily in the great banquet of spring, diamond tears of hundred thousands colorful eyes jewels the shame-blushed- cheeks of our declined humanity.

This year as the Earth is wearing its new lacy dress for the feast of spring, we shamefully get dressed for the parade of our degenerated humanity.

This year, spring began not in laughter and jubilation for triumph over the long cold winter, but in cry and tears for defeat of compassion and love by the long cold hands of hatred and cruelty.

What is the sin of flowers, trees, birds, butterflies, fish and reptiles and mammals, if the sin of man is to have eaten the fruit of tree of knowledge of good and evil?

Would this spring be the last spring of this beautiful blue planet?

2 Hope

This year as Earth is waking up from her cold winter sleep by the roaring of spring thunders, the cry of war seems to be stirring up humanity from its lingering deep slumber.

This year as the spring sun warms the snow covered peaks of mountains, the frost-bitten heart of humanity seems thawing under the warmth of passionate hands held in sympathy.

This year as spring rain quenches the thirst of freshly greened meadows and pastures, the withered orchards of human hearts seem recovering from a prolonged drought of mortal languor and apathy.

This year as Nature is celebrating its rebirth with millions trees and flowers and bubbling springs and gushing rivers and singing birds and happy animals regardless of their genus, color and gender, Mind of Man seems to be conceiving a long awaited new species not characterized by the ugly genetic traits of narrow contemptible inhuman racial, national social sexual egoistical identity, but by the beautiful amorous selflessness of legendry lovers.

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