Grozny Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Grozny

He works as carpenter
A Kurdish, of Paveh.

To me, he reminder
Of the Kurd in the jail
(His head up as rooster)
And the Kurds in Cascade
(Dalahoo, diving down)
And my fight with the youths
(Kermanshah, which was fun)

I insist:
“Please talk.”

He was young and too wild,
A rebel, as he must.

“We drank…got drunk…
We gathered everyone.
Youths climbed over hill.
We gathered bush, fire for the Eid.
To sky went flames…”

He was caught later on.
Sibling was along; at sixteen.

Two years passed
Sixteen was, now eighteen.
Young man hung…
Mother cried…
“I have left you a son.”
Said the judge, of Iran.
“Don’t dry crocodile.’

His words were grenade
Released its trigger.
And I burst…
“The same, though different
Happened in Chechnya…
Russians made Grozny.
The word means bloody and dirty.”