For the next week Baha'is will be remembering each of the Baha'is in prison by name. Yesterday Mahvash Sabet was remembered, a teacher and a poet, a wife and a mother. Here is one of her poems:
I Rose Up Again
Sunk in myself
One hot, dusty morning,
Walking alone in the prison yard
I wandered along the length of the wall,
Pondering the meaning of isolation and of doors,
Brooding on all these endless barriers and bolts and bars
And all the pointless fights and skirmishes and wars,
And considering where I was and why the abuse
Was being flung against me, I began to wonder
Whether these confines really defined
The limits of my self.
And then I saw
In the heart of the tar
In the middle of the road
From the dry earth’s blistered core
And the stones in the lumbering tarmac
Deep down from within a crack
In the ground at my feet
A few leaves sprouting,
green and neat.
And some days later
There they were again! Bright green!
Now in every nook and cranny, all around
As far as the eye could see, there were thistles growing,
Thousands of leaves and stems and offshoots
Scattered far and wide and bursting out
Of the prison yard!
And I said to myself,
Are you less than a weed then?
Where’s the life in your roots gone?
Where’s growth in your leaves, your stem?
No stirring in you at all? For shame!’’
And at that I felt a surge of the sap
Of spirit blaze within.
I’d become weak and weary and had fallen down, but the thistle made me rise again.
Back on my feet I stand firm and green growing,
Filled [with] the power of thought again.