Before you know
New England maples look like the chenar* trees of Valiasr Street
And everywhere smells of the night blooming jasmines of the garden alleys of Tehran
Before you know
You crave for a glass of pomegranate juice from Tajrish Sq
And the soft ice-cream served in sweet cones across from Mellat Park
Before you know
You miss your mom’s hug
Your brother’s voice, your sister’s jokes and your father’s scorns
Before you know
You remember and revive
The dead, buried, decayed, forgotten memories of things, places and people
Before you know
You are covered in prickly reactions
To actions that would not have mattered to you on a sunny day back home
Before you know
You turn into a clown clone of yourself
Filled with anger hungers, unexpected tears, laughters, and nightmares
Before you know
You are sick for a home
And longing for a place that you no longer belong to
Before you know
You find yourself a new home
That treats you like a transplanted limb
Before you know
You are dead and you have not yet lived
You are forgotten and you have not yet been known
Then you know
You should write a poem
You should find solace in words
*Oriental Plane
