Extreme Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

He wrote a poem
We paid attention
He called it: Winter
We saw politics

He said no reply to our greeting
We saw our rulers
He said jackets being on the head
We saw detainees and being tortured.
He talked of the eyes not seeing but feet,
We saw head banging with heavy machine.
He said of keen hand stretched and back,
We saw government cruel and aback,

Now in Toronto where cold is bitter
Freezes exhale as comes out of lung
Making dark cloud,
Closing the sight facing us with wall
We observe breath
Don’t expect friends

We see Messiah dressing like monk
Humble, warm, happy!
We look for reply
The door to open letting gypsy in
(That kicked like stone)

We believe magi
Crystal, bright
Not black; nor white.
Cheerless he; host
Looks at outside
Shivering in hail
As is our iced-rain
The sound he hears
Is of guest’s teeth
Hammer on anvil
In cold, gone heat
Politics, winter
We know you were right
Messiah was wrong
Your ear was red
Took it as sky
Reddened like dawn,
Was the winter's cold
We get same slaps.

Ambiguous message
(The political)
Here comes to light
“And the Great Sun,
Cometh dead/alive,
Out of long coffin
That is winter’s dark.”
For that we celebrate
Barman! Get the wine
Let’s kick out the night.

Friends of coldness
Remain in cover
Deaf to greetings
Their air gloomy
Doors shut closed,
The heads in jackets
Their hands in pockets
Their breaths cloud
Always pessimist

Their sky ceiling
So low one can touch
Their Moon is hazy
Their life is winter.
Their trees cold and crystal, low in spirit


Forgive us Mehdi