My Song Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

To Walt Whitman

I had him sit next to me at the table
He was a soldier, I
An officer
The two of non-comparable

Commander had changed
We had left
Back I was as a guest
But still officer
In off-club, newly set
New rules
New commander

“Sit, sit with me and eat.”
I said to the soldier-servant
“But…”
He started to say
I told him:
“Stop”

He sat
To me he was equal
Officer or not
It was not the same to general
Who came in and
Straight to us to question
“Who is this? ”
I was in civil
Soldier in uniform

And
The slap in his face
Hatred, was planted
In me of the general
As if beating was meant for me
On my face, my skin
An insult I felt, and the rest is bitter to remember…general died…a tumor in head…