"The Wounded-Moon Lady"

Musa Akrami

Dawn arrived
with a burden
of shattered stars
and in the embrace of silent alleys
lit the chandelier of tears

Here
every pebble
is an unfinished tale
of flight

They entrusted us
to the mercy of uninvited winds
to the sharp teeth of blizzards
to crimson cages of snow
Yet
from the breast of each frozen canary
a song arose
that grafted windows
onto dreams

O wounded-moon lady
Upon your brow
the mark of dawn
how softly it gleams
I know
in the depths of every dark pit
acacia seeds
dream of forests

This soil
beneath its own footsteps
whispers
“I will rise from the flames
greener still
from springs
more restless will I surge
even if they count all my leaves
under autumn’s name”

Night
rends its heavy curtain
and from every tear
light seeps
with the scent of warm bread
the smell of a new book
the fragrance of hands
that still hold
a covenant with tomorrow

O wounded-oon lady
We are the children of this soil
who turn pain
into song
and silence
into the melody
of white doves in flight

Friday / Nahidshid (Day of Ashtad / Arshtad) – Dey 26, 1404 / January 16, 2026
(Note: Ashtad, the 26th day of the Ancient Irania month, embodies Truth, Righteousness, and Justice)