Niloufar Behrooz

Zayandehrood

Every year, they decide to bring you back to life,
restoring your failing organs to artificial life.
 
The veins open and dark blood water labors out
then slowly crawls in your cracked skin, bereft of life.
 
Your ailing body struggles to embrace the crowd
who kiss your feet, Zayandehrood "Giver of Life".
 
There was a time when your cheerful spirit burbled
in every brook and stream, full of music & life.
 
Do you recall my young forefathers laugh and splash?
Surely rivers, too, have memories of past life.
 
I can still close my eyes and see the seagulls soar.
Such tragedy to yearn for what was normal life!
 
Isfahan "Nesf-e Jahan", my Persian Paris
When did you succumb to this silent barren life?
 
The mirrored bridges who shimmered in your moonshine
now rust in dust guarding the path for your half-life.
 
Foam at your breath as they drain your heart once again;
You're sentenced to comatose existence for life.
 
"No swimming!" The sign reads as the sun sets on your
remains: "Here's to a river who lives death in life."

*To Zayandehrood ("zayandeh" means life-giver and "rood" river) the largest river in central Iran located in Isfahan (nicknamed "Nesf-e Jahan," which literally translates as half of the world). 

Zayandehrood has lost its permanent flow since 2006 and is only opened for no more than two weeks each year.

Niloufar Behrooz has a PhD and is a lecturer in English Literature at the University of Isfahan, Iran. Her work has appeared in Raintown Review, Wilderness House Literary Review, Classical Poets Society, Lighten Up Online, Parody, Literary Hatchet, Litro, WHR, and elsewhere. You can find her on Instagram @niloufarbehrooz.