Your banishment map covers four countries,
price of accepting the Báb. In Tehran’s
underground dungeon, as visionary
you hear mystical voice of the maiden
call you “he whom God shall make manifest.”
At Baghdad’s Garden of Ridván, among
fan-shaped palms and mute faithful, you profess
your messiah’s mission—soft, inspired tongue
singing obedience, reason, and love.
From Constantinople, the Ottomans
and Persians see the Bábi split. They shove
you to Akká’s prison. Bahji’s mansion
will house your final years, captors at ease
at last with your preachings, your piercing eyes.
Roger Armbrust
August 10, 2008
