Homelessness Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Homelessness

Homeless, to me
Is not a strange word
I have embraced, lived with

We have lifted the tips of our hats
And
We have saluted one another; wordy

Homeless, to me, is
The fetus I saw in that river
With the mess and umbilical Cord

Child of adultery
Or poverty

Homelessness, to me is
Fatima
The poor daughter to divorce
Ignored
And mentally ill with big middle

She
Did not feel the pain
Possibly,
Did not know that she was pregnant
Till that day
In center of the room
Delivering tea; to her uncle’s guest
Delivered her baby too

Homelessness to me is
Familiar
Very
Like the night in Roudak
I wanted to sleep on the roadside
And the nights I spent in KGB’s underground
And in the SAVAMA of Bandar Abbas
And Evin in Tehran

Homelessness
I want you erased from this world.