I wrote poetry on scraps in prison.There was haiku.There was the merriment that would not let us break.There was the lifeline of hope.I wrote about grasshoppersand the sound of aircraft from Incirlik,and imagined every bird.I described my friends, each through his city:Aleppo,Bloudan,Madaya,Homs,Afrin.We mocked the jailer.We filled the world with resolve,the resolve of the Revolution,and persistence,onlysowe would not burst into tears.