Dancing Flames

Yasmin Meghdadi, 2T8 WB

It’s cold outside, and the brisk gust of wind slices against my face. I can see the tendrils of my

breath materialize in the late March night. I gather my long skirts in one fist, walking quickly

towards the light coming off the bonfires.

The closer I get to the ebbing warmth of the hearth, the louder it gets. Everyone whom I have

ever known and then some, are gathered round. They are all wearing long skirts and flowing

trousers. The bell sleeves of our white shirts get filled with Winter’s last breaths, giving us the

false hope that if it accumulates enough we might just get to fly.

Tonight is special. It is the last Wednesday of the year. Every family, tall and tiny, brand new

and wrinkly, gathers together under the open night sky, their only witness the visible sliver of

moon and a roaring fire. Chaharshanbeh Soori. A night full of light, full of laughter, and life. It is

an eve brimming with the singing of my people, seeing them dance hand in hand, our skirts and

shirts billowing in the wind, our golden bangles and earrings creating a fast-paced melody that is

echoed by the intricate footwork of our revelry.

We stare into the fire, pushing out all the sickness, grimness and bleakness within our bodies and

souls into its flaming arms, and taking back with us the burning light and sense of life it has to

give. I scream and woop in glee, running fast toward the bonfire, my red slippers refusing to slip

on the frozen ground. I pleat my skirt up, trying to salvage the ends from sizzling in the flames

underneath me, journeying to the other side where my family is waiting.

We will dance till the moon shrinks back and lets the penetrating rays of dawn awaken the birds

nesting in the trees. We will dance and jump through fires until our feet are blistered and the

hearth is reduced to crinkling ashes, having given up all of its livelihood to the children of

Siyavesh through an old tradition that refuses to succumb to the test of time.

We dance to welcome in the new year. We dance to strengthen our spirits. We dance to nourish

the traditions that have been passed down to us, from mother to daughter, one generation after

the other. We dance to remember those who can’t, and we dance to promise no matter how cold

and dark the night becomes, sunrise will always prevail.