PERSEPOLIS

Perched just behind the pilot’s seat

I felt strangely modern and sure,

Despite the rough terrain below

The helicopter’s throbbing roar.

But then the hills fell right away

And the dusty ruins were there,

Blurring slightly but set in stone

So my response was stare and stare.

The old city stood at the top

Of a neatly divided plain.

The hills behind were stark and bare

Housing old graves that hide the pain

Of those ancient kings of all kings

Who ruled as their vast empire spread.

They gained the world and even more;

But reigned always just years ahead

Of great armies and grim defeat.

In time they came – massed invaders –

Bringing the fire, wreaking revenge,

Raising flags for crass crusaders.

And all the time I walked these ruins

I sensed what must be understood –

Persians were here when we had nil

Of what we know of nationhood.

So I began to wish for you:

My favorite glimpse of Persia’s pride.

How much, much more I would have learned,

If you had been my loving guide.

Later you said in your sweet voice,

That laughed its way around my heart,

You have but seen Takht-e Jamshid

Where our great kings led lives apart

And built bedrooms for all their wives.

With that I smiled, replete with dreams

Of love for my Persian princess,

Who was, I hoped, hot for my schemes.

Note: The ruins at Persepolis are often referred to as Takht-e Jamshid because the site was once believed to be the home of the mythical King Jamshid.  In fact, the city was built by the kings who reigned after Cyrus the Great had toppled the tyranny of Babylon’s Chaldean rulers and established the massive Persian Empire that dominated the known world until Alexander the Great began his march eastwards.  This poem recalls seeing Persepolis from the air while travelling from Shiraz in a military helicopter piloted by members of the Iranian Imperial Guard.  The photograph shows only a tiny portion of the overall spectacle.