William Irwin Thompson
The whites of her eyes rolled up like a saint
in a filmed drama of staged yogic bliss,
then her head turned and showed it was not paint
that guttered out. The sniper did not miss,
in spite of Neda’s black Persian Hijab,
the perfect placing of his pervert’s kiss,
but he was just doing his Basij job;
the street was not the place for their complaint.
Religion is the robed disguise of thugs,
whether snipers on the roofs shooting girls,
Taliban buying guns by selling drugs,
West Bank settlers with their Uzis and curls
stealing wells with walls and Adonai’s will,
who gave them the land and license to kill.