To My Birthday Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

To my birthday

My palms cupped
inside them as in mug
kept earth that was fertile
and the seed of crop
I stood and stood and stood
facing sun.

The time in control
days and nights
months and months
and passed years.

Came up tip
a green on its head a yellow
the skin of the seed,
of crop
and we talked:

"Did you die? "
I questioned
"To which one…? "
they replied as if one…

Every death has a birth
new life lies behind.