In The Cold Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

In the cold

Read the words, see pictures,
The Texas disaster to me is vehicle.

They take me to old times,
Was on way as a child,
Yet, wandered to wonder,
Kept asking, raised questions.

Was faithful, religious,
Just because of parents.

They cleaned and prayed,
Then approached life of day.

Since we had everything,
That a kid wants or needs,
I thought came from God,
Had no doubt in my heart.

The hours became months,
Left the childhood behind,
Questions and suspicions,
On, about the people,
Being picks and shovels,
Even anvils, hammers.

Hardest was religion!

Who is God?
What is God?

Which is right?
And the wrong?

Read poems on shepherd,
And the "Stone-carver, "
By Rumi, Zakani.

They invite God as guest,
Stories are great,
Roots of both must be same.

Each host is a lover,
And scared is the guest,
Hosts never ask for help.

The hosts are devoted:
"Will make you a warm bed,
And bring you water,
I pour and wash your face,
Then set the food, table,
Safeguard you from the,
Discomfort, disaster…"

Such a God is comfort,
And brings lots of joy.

Later faced God of mosques,
Sold and bought by mullahs,
They give names to Allah…

Felt being in market,
Tiny girl on stage,
Is auctioned as slave!

Made a turn, ran away,
No ticket for return,
Will never visit them!

Studied massacres,
Genocides, bloodsheds,
Saw many killed, slayed,
For seeking freedom…

Boston's is example,
People want freedom.

Many years passed, at end,
After long, came changes,
Boston's kids, descendants,
Are causing problems…

When is next massacre?
Want to be among them!