Wascana Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Wascana

The writing was simple:
"My will and my mother."

Request was painting:
"Bury me like Waris! "

Explained how to see:
"Go fishing in the sea,
Pull the net with crane,
Look at it and its shape,
Imagine birth, rebirth,
And in womb, a fetus! "

Wanted to leave, go back
In mother's stomach:
"Dig a pot like a womb
And sit me, squat."

He had some exception:
"Let my palm be a vase
In it seed and water,
And it shall blossom,
Grow tall, be tree,
Be mother, bear fruits…"

Wascana, as we learned
Became our lone lesson:
"Mass of bones, a pile! "

He had meant to tell us:
"My bones are valuable
Only, if, used as vase
With its soil, fat, flesh! "

Buried him as he asked:
"No tears, only wine,
Because wine is blood,
Of grapes and the vine! "

He believed in rebirth
As had had the Waris!