Red Skies Over Tehran

 

the sky did not turn red by sunset,

it turned red by decision.

Across the distance between

United States and Israel,

warplanes wrote a new headline

over the trembling roofs of Iran.

They called it “Roaring Lion,”

they called it “Operation Epic Fury,”

as if fury needs a name

to justify its fire.

In Tehran,

windows shook before dawn prayers.

In Isfahan,

smoke rose like unanswered questions.

Missiles searched for meaning

in the language of destruction.

A president spoke of “major combat,”

of nuclear shadows and regime change,

urging people to rise 

but how do ordinary hands rise

when they are busy shielding children

from falling glass?

Iran answered with drones and thunder,

toward borders, toward bases,

toward a horizon already heavy with grief. 

Sirens replaced lullabies in Israel.

Flights vanished from the sky.

The world refreshed its screens

again and again,

as if peace might load

with the next update.

I write this not as a strategist,

not as a soldier 

but as a human watching

how power argues in explosions

while mothers everywhere

count heartbeats instead of victories.🙂

I wrote this poem because headlines were too loud, but human pain was silent. When nations like United States, Israel, and Iran clash, the news counts missiles, not heartbeats. I am not a political analyst; I am someone who feels the weight of uncertainty that ordinary families carry during war. This poem is my way of slowing down the noise and remembering the people behind the conflict ,the children, the mothers, the fearful nights.

If these words moved you even slightly, pause before choosing sides. Choose humanity first. Share empathy. Speak for peace. Let awareness be louder than anger.

Let there be peace in our hearts. Ameen!