A Century Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

A century

Have friends like Jesse
-some call them: "First Nations, "
-to some are: "Indians, "

My friends ignore names
-call themselves in own way:
-"I am a human, "
-they tell me
-and go on
-"…like you and the others;
-must have rights…equal…"

When you are guest to them
-they bring tobacco
-with great receptions
-and the sacred smudge
-of course, all come after
-a frank warm bear hugs

Jesse has on his wall
-a cleaned head of hunt
-with big horns…
-and other reminders to tell us:
-"…was here long before
-…you arrived…"

We talk of the cultures,
-national foods and dishes

"Remember…"
-he tells me with sadness
-"…good or bad…
-…your land and your rulers
-…have been yours…"

Likes our food, which in fact
-thanks to the radio and TV,
-migration to cities,
-and life-change in village
-has shrunk to few on menu
-no more foods are varied
-some vanished; among them ‘Ash Arzan, '

"What is your national food? "
-I ask and soon feel bad
-too sorry…

My sorrow is because he tells me:
-"to kill us, killed our roots and cultures…
-we were killed in childhood…
-either by sending us to the boarding schools -…or to a foster house…"

He stops, takes a deep, deep breathe
-then calmly and kindly, diplomat:
-"…possibly meant well, but…"

Once again, in tears:
-"…yet…but…yet…"

Cannot sit any more, stands up,
-and goes on; strangely he walks,
-his legs are shaking wild:
-"…their good was in their way…
-for their faith, their culture…
-that good meant hurricane…
-…and storm…earthquake…"

At same time sobs and wipes his tears
-cannot talk clear
-so whispers:
-"…destroyed what we had…
-family, faith, culture…"

"Invaders' arrival in short and in simple…
-got us lost…
-now we are neither us…nor are them…"

And I do sympathise, empathise:
-"damn are we …we too have invaded…
-…and have been invaded…"
-both of us quiet, he puts word in my mouth:
-"Did you turn upside down…? "
-expects me to say: "NOT! "