Activist Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Activist

With hand-held camera, holder filmed, ran backward
In his zoom was a man, a blind
But no one was aware, only the camera.
Protagonist walked, zigzagged, straight
As do rest; those normal.

Came building with steps
He stopped, took his time
Camera in rolling, kept focused
Face fresh, history, eyes closed
He wore shades, took them off.

“But you, sir? ”
Was question; it froze
In throat, the artist had a lump.

“Well my son…”
The man said, as if heard
The mind of the artist, and question.
“I trust the nature, but not the architects.”

Artist, shocked!
Stood right, looked at lens
And the man…

“The worst is the mankind…”
“See these eyes? I’m blind…”
He breathed, deep and long:
“Not natural but by man, what a luck.”
Once again, a deep sigh…
“It is shame to see them…”

No dolly, no panning, nor crane, of scope
Nothing rolled; charge over, battery died.

“Off the page…”
The man said, unaware what went wrong.
“One skins, talks to meet; life taken…”
Artist read what was end.
“Past is past, let’s start anew…”
Blind was activist.