About me

It's me, Saeed Koushan—

In the beginning, I was a voice carved from stone,
a heartbeat caught between sacred hymn and moan,
the earth that held me claimed me as its own.

Love was the ember they taught us to smother,
the hidden flame we passed to one another,
wrapped tight beneath our grandmother's cover.

I walked where cameras blinked like dying stars,
where silence stretched like oil between the bars,
where strangers' eyes held maps of distant scars.

Under fluorescent suns that never sleep,
I learned the weight of promises to keep—
the measured waltz of those who dare not weep,
their dreams pressed small in coat pockets deep.

Time moved like honey through cracked window glass,
each day became a narrow mountain pass,
until the borders lived within my mass—
who I was, and who I dared not ask.

Then came the night the nightingale broke free:
its song spilled silver through the darkened tree
where I found my name carved wild and free,
no longer their translation—only me.

Now distance tastes of cardamom and rain,
I am the voice that stone could not contain,
the heart that carved itself from ancient pain
and blooms wherever exile lets its wild seed rain.

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