Sisters In Law Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Sisters in law

My mother, old fashioned
Was proud to give birth.

Large brood, she bred,
With joy and pleasure,
As duty, and faith.

She was too religious,
With pride, always said:
"Advised us prophet,
Islam must spread,
A mother makes soldiers."

Even though was woman,
Never were equal,
A son with a daughter.

Guess never knew of,
Parts of her genital.

Her joy was children,
Not bed or having sex.

For her aim and purpose
Gave herself to husband.

Can see her, even now,
Has smile in her eyes,
Are bright, open wide:
"I gave birth to dozen."

From the sons remained,
To age of marriage,
Have wives and children,
We were five…

First, married a cousin,
And youngest married with,
One distance relative,
In sort of matchmaking,
Not the rest…

Second was sick, in bed,
Hospitalized with others,
Saw among visitors,
Of the ward, in next bed,
A girl that was gorgeous.

When meeting was over,
Chatted the two patients,
They exchanged addresses,
She became my in-law,
Total stranger…

And the third, a worker,
In plant, assembled,
The car that Iran made…

Befriended colleagues,
One became our neighbor,
Small room he rented…

Friendship bounded them,
Tenant's guests came and went,
Then, his niece, our sister!

My ex was sister of
My school classmate.

My parents made UN,
And collected nations,
Through the marriages.

Like in hand, five fingers,
These new five sisters
Broke the barriers,
Demolished all borders,
Became one, united,
In sorrow and dances.

My simple, kind mother
Sleep tight with bless,
You did bear the soldiers,
Your army conquered…