Parisa Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Parisa

It is not only her name
It is a wave; the tremor.

The wave of changes,
Regaining our agency
Retaining and leaving
Impositions…mimics

The instruments
The tunes, notes
And the tradition
Origin comeback

Parisa was the star

1979

Changes; written by blood
And by fire in Rex
And fists cutting the air
And the bread divided
Several times subdivided;
Till last recipient got a coin.

Revolution
Closure
And

Parisa:
“Music is an elevator to God.”

Mullahs:
“Music is following the devil.”

He
Hosein
Name of his age
Had
Babak, Afshin and Parisa
Named his children after heroes

We were friends
Close
Very
But different
North and South Saga
Opposite sides of front line
But friends, hosts, defenders

Luther
Named after Martin Luther
Assyrian
The true owner of the land
The indigenous
Like Inuit
Silent
Others decided for him
Shah, Khan, Mullah
What a shame

“Ur”
He told me
“Means water; in our language.”
I learned
Thanks Luther

“We had our religion, ”
Lutherans took advantage
Converted us; the remaining patch.”

“My people”
I want to shout
“We are either occupiers
Or their coward brothers
We converted out of fear
They did so to find a friend.”

And I want to bow
To Hosein
To Luther
And to their wisdoms
And to their hearts
“Sorry; I was wrong.”
“We have all been; for ages.