Today, I watched from my home in exile,
the Munich conference glowing on my TV screen,
a window into a dream deferred.
And in that screen,
I saw a glimpse of the Iran that could be.
My heart folded itself into a green, white, red prayer,
half aching, half aflame.
I carry my homeland like a lantern,
dimmed, but never extinguished.
Hope sat beside sorrow on the sofa today,
both quiet, both real.
And I let them stay.
Now I count, not days, but heartbeats
toward the moment I return,
not to visit,
but to belong again,
to live forever in a free and normal Iran.