Elegy Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Elegy



Elegy

I felt the penetration
As if I was a quilt
In the hand of an old woman
In a mud-house
In a desert
And her flickering light,
A candle
Three-color flame
Red, golden and smoke
Danced in the breeze
Of its final moments
Of her breath.

I felt her needle
The nippy air of Siberia
The escaping wilderness of Prairie
That burned my skin.

Not burned …

What is the word?
Joy?
Pleasure?
Pain?
Disappearance?
Sarcasm?
Trance?

Whatever the word; it came with an elegy.
And it drilled its way
Fracked into my marrow
The:
“…she died, kneeling
in the dirt under the sun, calling me darling
in Arabic, which no one has since.”

Of Hayan Charara

Wednesday, May 20, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: poetry
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