Races Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Races

When recall older days
See fun, joy, everywhere
Mostly with youngsters.

The youths and children
Always raced to be best
In some of local plays.

Little boys of my age
speak with the donkeys.

They sat on the bare beasts
And took them to water.

They spoke strange,
Using a whistle song!

Since I was unable
In me felt kind of pain.

To show them my success,
I read books, all lessons,
And with that won a race.

Saw water that surfaced
At mouth of reservoir
From melted snow
Through a chain of wells.

The tunnel turned canal
With bubbles at its base
And pebbles everywhere,
Then bags of milk, butter.

The young men over there
Had a race among them,
They pick up the marbles
From ice-cold-water.

The one with most number
Naturally, won the race…

People were rich with time
Lot of it for game, race.

The races and the games,
Changed, varied with seasons
And genders, locations…

I grew, travelled
To cities, passed borders
And noticed games, races,
Differing for cultures,
Histories, places…

Saw many of the games
Acting like the mirrors
To the men and women
In schools for lessons
To learn and become best
Among the mass, people.

Saw the boys, bicycles
And pushcarts on rollers
In Tehran and elsewhere,
Then to rings, kickboxers.

None had bad intention
All meant to win the race.

Felt part of hemispheres
When with the Indigenous.

Studied the priests
And French, British
Trying to rule, seal
An imposed politics.

Saw them fight for gaining
On corpse of the Indigenous.

Gulping their land, culture
Poisoned their brains
By banning Sundance way.