Nassy Fesharaki

(Dec 29 / Iran)

Yakhni


Yakhni

This may sound strange
But not so, everywhere

On the run, there were days
Behind me Taliban, I'd escaped
First city, "freedom", I was told
Bullet, gun, and afraid every-one
I slept in Nahrain and woke up
But still far from safety, in truck
We stood as do beasts in the dust
Driver would take us to city, Taleqan
Faces masked eyes covered, handles rust
Winding roads in mountains, we stopped
Food was sold; hungry and starved
I ordered the Yakhni; unaware
From mouth to bottom it would burn
Hot water in a bowl, half-cooked meat
What a day, what a trip, like clock
Time flew and hands moved, tick-tick-tock
Now here, after years, and same food
I was burned, head to toe, with the thoughts.

Submitted: Sunday, July 13, 2014

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