Way Of Artists Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Way of Artists

The sky's blanket
-had become a canvas.

It covered the city
-edge to edge, as frame.

Sprayed drizzle
-on base paint of grey.

Ambient was filled with
-rain's smell and nature.

Wanted to undress
-head to toe be naked
-have joy and pleasure
-feel breeze in wet fog
-on head and chest and neck
-where they land to set nest.

Wanted see streams
-run on nose, nostrils
-when lashes and brows
-got moist, made drops.

With such thought I went to
-a corner where trees
-leafless and eagerly
-peeked to learn by looking:
- "Is safe to Germinate? "

Quiet I was as
-mouse, snake in hiding;
-just sat there at an edge …

Though hidden, sparrows
-chirped and chirped in daytime
-till died sun; sunk, was gone.

Mingled and entangled
-drizzles, fog, cloud …

Heard cousins as they fought;
-some cried, some sang song!

Remembered Middle East;
-most ancient ‘War and Peace'
-children of Sara with Hajar's.

Snow, Rain, share gene of
-oceans, seas and clouds…

Could hear singing of
-rain on boughs and trunks
-to falling on me and then ground.

Near me I could hear
-far from the beneath
-snow, ice, crying:
- "What is this enmity? "
- "Why kill us our cousins? "

Grass too, was peeking
-some blades standing
-firm on ends and in air
-to cut loose and open
-the blinds to season
-and time of sneaking
-out of bed…sleeping.

All bushes, branches
-were awake and alert
-to answer how and when
-as well as place, where…

Raindrops threw selves
-on floors, stages…
-danced to songs of DJ…

Heard the Ice speaking:
- "Cousins rain follow the
- Kamikazes' attacking enemy…"

Snow said in reply:
- "I feel them…in spine! "