Dead Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Dead

Dead she was while alive
-dead he is while alive

Born a Jew in Berlin
-was cute, hardworking
-Hitler came and she too
-was forced to runaway
-in my search I found her
-fell in love with her though
-I knew she was dead

I taught the immigrants
-Roger, a Quebecois, did the same
-he gave me some papers
-among them photos of footsteps
-he claimed of the life, much older
-in forests of Quebec

Neither one was worthy
-by the so called learned
-with power and the pen
-crazy was I who
-gathered their documents

I am old, soon will go
-will someone look at them?
-will ever anyone care for them?

Some people are born dead
-they live low as do worms
-underneath the steps
-till crushed and an end
-some grow like leeches
-suck blood, delicious
-and become like Trump

Human is a dot on the map
-history of our lives is a line
-Who brings the paper?
-whose hand is holding pen?
-who issues the orders?

I feel their worthless lives
-hers and his
-same is mine
-in fact all of our lives
-even the leeches that suck blood

Hey Khayyam
And Hallaj
And buried in graves
And the ones turned fossils
-pave the road for me too
-bring and pour the wine,
-spread Sufism,
-teach me the way to die…

Why should I fear the end of cave?
-has it not been always?
-will it not be always?
-let's have fun while alive!
-why to care for the air and sky?
-I close my eyes on what goes on!

If I can…
-sounds like lie!