Elahe Rahroniya: ‘Godzilla In The Margin Of History’
Elahe Rahroniya is a writer, poet, critic, political activist, and artist from Iran. Her first poetry book was published in 2001, followed by 14 additional books, numerous articles, as well as work in theatre, film, and illustration. Highly critical of the Islamic regime, Rahroniya was arrested in 2012 and has lived in exile ever since. Between 2013 and 2015, she was the ICORN resident in Stavanger, Norway.
Rahroniya’s Godzilla in the Margin of History is the author’s first book-length poem, shaped by her experience of living through political turmoil in Iran. This includes the events of 2009, which have been labelled ‘The Green Movement’, but Rahroniya describes it as a power struggle between two rival factions within the Iranian regime, using people’s protests in a liberation movement, rather than just against the result of the elections. Rejecting both factions of the 2009 power struggle, Rahroniya uses her work to display these destructive forces as ‘dinosaurs’, consuming the country and its people.
In 2026, the people of Iran have once again taken to the streets, only to face another wave of violent repression, digital blackouts, and attempts by the Islamic regime to erase its atrocities from collective memory and historical record. In the light of these events, Rahroniya’s Godzilla in the Margin of History becomes especially significant. Below, you can read an excerpt in English and in Persian, accompanied by illustrations.
For The Little Godzilla
From The Butterfly
Time: The last days of the Mesozoic Era(the age of dinosaurs) and the early years of the Ice Age.
Place: A half-frozen land in the Middle East.
I swear on softness of the dog’s tail!
I swear on dust of butterflies’ bodies.
I swear on the wing of the fly,
stuck to the forehead of that old swatter,
that torn swatter,
I prefer dog
to all animals in the world.
Even if rabid,
I’ll buy a bullet,
costly,
and shoot his brain.
He deserve to die by a bullet
not poison
and I’ll bury his body
with all respect.
My darling Godzilla!
I swear on the lipstick mark,
I left on highest stair of your back,
I am the butterfly of your dreams…
…………………………………………
I am addicted, addicted, addicted,
addicted
to blast of madness of explosion,
addicted
to unconscious particles of insomnia,
addicted
to flounces of skirt of volcano,
and to pollen of Fern’s dress.
Maybe I am depressed,
but I honor the Dog!
And I will wag his tail
beside the holy apostles of Buddha,
And I’ll sniff
the white powder of bone,
even if
there be no one to love
and dogs all rabid.
And I appreciate swatters.
And I’ll deflower
all the petals of holy Scriptures
on the graves of amphibians.
And I’ll remember,
the smell of Zarathustra’s kiss.
…………………………………………
Godzilla says: “You are crazy! Beyond psychosis!”
He is afraid of heights
and jealous of me,
as he can’t fly like me.
And much I love flying high!
and mountaintop, smelling cloud,
and giraffes cleaning their noses with high branches.
And Godzilla...!
Do I love Godzilla?!?
................................................................
I don’t go to demonstrations.
My voice becomes hoarse soon,
and my body is so tiny
no carnivore can see me.
But I hate to sit and watch.
I have sympathy for squirrels and sparrows
and for blind, lame cats
who every night
have a night out in garbage cans,
and honor plastic bottles,
and for clean dachshunds
who fear shadows,
afraid of being eaten,
standing behind the windows,
just shout: “ALLAH O AKBAR!’’
without even knowing
it tickles carnivores.
And bears,
easy to shoot at their big, wide hearts,
and turtles,
hunted like a breeze.
And convicted vegetarian dinosaurs,
who become sandwiches
between the walls of solitary cells.
I have written slogans
on all flowers in my neighborhood
and have taught them to fart loudly
when a carnivore passes.
Somehow the stench
neutralizes tear gas…
……………………………………….
How wonderful it could be
if the lion
becomes the forest’s king again,
and the sun on his back
could melt all the ice.
…………………………………………
Today two vegetarian dinosaurs were executed.
Hanged.
And I saw,
in the last seconds,
how their long tails shook
…………………………………………
I go to the toilet
and push hard to shit my tears.
No spell lurks in the toilet.
I’ve heard water
dispels all hidden microphones,
but I can’t cry.
Constipation hardened my heart and eyes.
I push and push
until hate and anger
come out of my eyes like hail,
hit the toilet bowl,
and break.
I fill my hands with toilet paper,
press it in my mouth,
and scream
from the end of my colon.
The scream of hate and anger.
................................................................
The rust of this sword has disinfected my heart, Godzilla!
Anyone who becomes Caliph
is red to my eyes,
the color of carnivore’s turban.
................................................................
We,more homeless than “The Sons of Israel”
and more enslaved than the Canaanites,
eat frozen soil
in our homeland,
with no fire.
Now
The fire temples are ice-houses, Godzilla,
Huge ice-houses,
but the poles don’t let us in their summit conferences.
…………………………………………
Let’s take refuge in the forest, Godzilla!
In Africa,
on the Equator,
anywhere without enormous carnivores,
where, there are sun and tree
and predators hunt only to relieve hunger.
Or let’s become marines, Godzilla!
Where can we buy gills to become marines?
Maybe mermaids’ll embrace us,
or maybe a warm planet
which grimaces at gains of ice revolution,
and where martyr’s blood won’t be used
to irrigate anti-ice plastic tulips.
Where the monopoly of oil wells
isn't in the hands of Ice ogre.
And Uranium
doesn’t thicken the buttocks of slut missiles,
and Uranium
doesn’t shake breasts of Al-qaeda,
and Uranium
doesn’t poke tool of Hamas
for bottom of David’s tribe,
and Uranium
doesn’t become a bow tie under long beard of Taliban,
and…
Do you know such a place, Godzilla?
For more information on Elahe Rahroniya, please visit her website.
