Born Old Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Born old

Some wonder:
- "Why concerned? "

I am asked when observed
-talking of both Jews and Palestine,
-when take side and stand against walls,
-and when I, comment in swearing very loud!

I hear in silence
-blood boils in my veins.

Their sayings open valve
-comes flow of advice:
- "Life is short…"
- "You are one…"
- "Why concerned? "
- "Why to live behind bars? "

Most know not
-I was old when was born.
-carried loads as do the Camelids.

Two sides of same mirror are my birth and place
-with the fools' who are shame to White House.

Since I come of Iran
-I was born old enough
-to know of ups and downs
-and to know of life's sides
-when taking, occupied.

I have been the cause and
-the victim of looting, bloodshed,
-genocide and torture and the rape
-during invasions, excursions…
-and abuse in the wars…

In times I, or my king
-whipped the waves of the sea
- (when ready and able to head out,)
- "This is the punishment for rebels! "

In times though were kindest
-opened arms to neighbours:
- "Siblings who are hurt, come, enter
-not as guests but as heirs…"
-We, all, are born to same Mother Earth;
-Arians, Armenians to Polish.

I have been particle and part of
-the joys and sufferings of the life
-of mankind…overall…general…

I have been deprived of speaking
-in my own mother tongue…
-so, feel the "Squaw" and "Savage"! ! !

My ancient history was taken, rewritten
-therefore, I wear skin of Maya and Incas
-all the way to Caral…

Ancestors ran to heart of mountains
-lost their pasts' dignity and place
-so, I feel the drunk and homeless
-and depressed and hopeless…

I was forced to convert
-that makes me feel the Jews
-and many other faiths…

My best time, with smile, is reading and looking at:
"Polish refugees at a camp, outskirts of Tehran, "
"Polish girl patching part of earth in front of her tent, "
"Polish boy with loaves of bread given by the Red Cross, "
"Evacuees wearing the donated woolen robes to warm up…"

I feel Jews when homeless
I feel them when not far from La Paz,
I feel them when bad guests for the hosts
I feel them when eating each other like the rats.

I feel all refugees in the camps
I feel them without home and respect
I feel them, feel, feel them, deep in pain.