The Echo of a Kiss Between Two Nations

When missiles fall on the Holy Land, an Iranian poet in exile writes — not of war, but of the hope that binds two ancient peoples.

Upon the holy land
shooting stars rain down
and I, watching from afar,
weep

For the child
who knows nothing of war or weapons
For the home
of a friend
that collapsed without warning

But they said, of each falling fire—
make a wish.
So I wished
upon the union of two ancient lands

And they whispered:
Know that your heart’s deepest wish
will find its way to the light
— a covenant ancient and unbroken —
every scheme of the tyrants cloaked in darkness
shall dissolve like ink in water

Come, let us make hope
a flag within our hearts
whose glorious flutter
reaches the galaxies

Let the echo of a kiss between two steadfast soils
reach the ears of the world — no!
Let it reach the heavens.

March 22, 2026, Türkiye