Soon I Will Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Soon I will

No need for telling lies!

Soon will do what I must,
I will leave, I will die.

Birthplace and birth time
Turned my chest to safeguard
And made me history.

What of when I am gone?
How many will write lies?
Will not dumb be parrots,
teach the same as truth?

They will etch and repeat the same junk.

Soon I will be on my way
Sad for you in blinds.

Anthropologists are searching
for the bones; hand carving.
What if are misguided?

They show bones and the joints.
They do say with measures:
"Smalls are the locals…"

What if then like today
immigrants were many
Bones are mixed?

Look around everywhere
Caucasians and others
Side by side in graves
of the tombs, Toronto.

Did not this happen then?