Isfahan red, endures

(edited June 18 for his birthday)

Let me circle around you, in Isfahan red, and not

“build your opponent a golden bridge to retreat across.”

like Sun Tzu, no art in war,

who tied them in knots.

As the path in Isfahan red narrows,

paired with deep blue,

not the azure western sky’s hues,

Since Fruz the Sassanid, we have been here.

And still,

we are Still

and, still here: Isfahan,

al-Yahūdiyya, the city of the Jews.

Now, we are not just the Eleven

who crossed the bridge, fleeing Habib’s fate,

their hate, before we were born:

now we are back, a test,

kingfishers clinging to trees, staring,

diving, leaving pebbles

where Habib’s stone rests:

Isfahan red pairs best with blues from Babylon,

because oppression fears

those with no fear.

Philippe du Col © 2025