By Joel Miller, Sweden
They're beating their war drums and
chanting Iran.
They cry tears of steel and wail
about the noble need to invade and conquer.
They caress their powerful tools of
destruction and quiver with anticipation of success.
They can't imagine that their dreams
are about to become nightmares.
They know nothing of Iranian
pistachios.
These large, tender and exquisite
nuts have been pleasing and nourishing the Iranians since long before Europeans
walked on the American continent.
The aggressors know nothing of the
fury they will unleash should they damaged a single pistachio
tree.
The Iranians embrace a similar
reverence for their dates.
These dates have sweetened their
palates since long before the word candy existed in the English
language,
since long before there was an
English language.
The Iranians have joked and flirted
with these dates,
evoked smiles and laughter from
their children with them,
thanked their loved ones for sweet
pleasures with them.
They are not going to put up with
anyone desecrating their dates.
What do the aggressors know of
pistachios or dates?
What do the aggressors know of
Iranian carpets, Persian rugs?
Nearly indestructible wool from fat
highland sheep knotted together and strengthened with other strands of nearly
indestructible wool
forming carpets capable of
sustaining generations of footsteps?
Protecting against cold, heat,
dampness.
Capturing the imagination with
patterns of beauty woven from the mysteries of
ancestors.
The aggressors cannot imagine the
heights to which the soul can fly
while sitting on such a carpet
contemplating its secrets.
What do the aggressors know of the
Iranian men? These friendly and generous men who can knot together in
undefeatable determination
if their pistachios are
damaged
or their dates
desecrated
or their carpets
sullied.
What do the aggressors know of the
Iranian women? These women who can speak with their eyes and each one is capable
of single-handedly eliminating forty thieves.
Do the aggressors know that these
people are a nation of poets?
That poetry is woven into their
heritage since the first blush of civilization
when they were taught that
humanity's struggle is basically one of right against wrong, light against
darkness, good against evil?
That their poets can spellbind
monsters?
That their poets can summarize life
in less than 20 words?
Do the aggressors have any idea what
it means to attack a nation of poets?
That their steel and fire has no
power against poetry?
That whatever destruction and
suffering they bring to Iran will become ingredients in their
own nightmare of defeat?
Of course they don't. They don't
even know the significance of a pistachio.
Joel Miller (miller@bentarz.se) lives in
Sweden and is the author of From DNA to
ABC
