Isabella Crawford Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Isabella Crawford

Held scissors in my hand
Cut the night into halves
Threw out the first part,
Kept busy with the last.

Started with the Act
And Reserves, even laws,
Found Duncan, the Scott
And his work and his life…

Encountered Isabella,
With Katy and Malcolm.

Read through one by one
Shed tears for each one…

Tough is life of poets
If they care to research
For writing fact, detailed
Life of poor or oppressed
And abused, by commerce…

She published her book and
Like many gave free
More than ones for money.

Compared her and Scott
With Hafez and Khayyam
And Saadi and Rumi
And many more, many…

All suffered in some way
Or had to admire
The anvil with hammer…

Saw that older nations
Were closer to her
And she felt Wandering
That shot and killed Quin.

Not Scott! Who was he?