PARNIA ABBASI/THE EXTINGUISHED

Parnia Abbasi, a young Iranian woman, had not yet reached 24 years of age. On June 13th, in the Sattarkhan neighborhood of western Tehran, she was murdered alongside her younger brother, Parham, and their parents in an Israeli strike.

 Described by her friends as gentle-spirited, aspirational, and funny, Parnia was an English teacher with a distinct poetic voice who graduated from Qazvin International University. The following poem is a response to Parnia's piece, "The Extinguished Star."

THE EXTINGUISHED 

Do we ever reach this place, Parnia?

Unopened stamps so close to home,

that face in your ink-stained Tabriz

echoes in the resonance of a blow,

growing louder with every stolen breath.

In a damp crevice, a titanomachy stirs,

birthing Winds that reach the living,

roaring as they travel—

haunted are those who turn their back.

Rest assured:

the statue that feeds on people will be torn—

not those who crumble slowly with every step.

I speak of a gentle, all-bearing light,

carrying stories of flood, of flight, of floating,

and the day you became a poet.

A beak plucks at the eyes of despotic inanime—

who could accept a dead thing, ruling?

Piercing the veil that is worn in private—

Parnia… so you were.

So shall I be:

like all laughing flowers,

wind-tossed, charred-clothed, never lost, never silent.

                                               Poem by Lilia Al Houari