Brown Jacket Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Brown jacket

Everything has a name given by the mankind, with it we recognize.

There is a history for the things, origin lies in time, and oral stories

This jacket, brown skin, has its history, stories, is a cave discovered

It is mine. I’ve had it for decades; I bought it so to help. And it goes:

Stories very nice, I must tell, and must dig deep in times, into pasts

Well settled in Dubai, always loved adventure and I do with no mind.

Naturally different were causes, being a human also a crazy nationalist.

When Reza bought the pumps we removed all labels, anew “Taiwanese”

Fax machines in store, we packed them, then shipped them; smuggled.

Digital, a machine, urgent need for Iran, I chartered Kish plane airlifted.

Two young men, home-ridden, members of MKO lived with me as labor

I took them for visa, sponsored and helped them till they went to France

One returned after time another in Iraq. Ali came, he brought this Jacket

I paid him and purchased. It’s a book. It’s movie. It’s filled with memory

This jacket is carving on the walls of the caves of a pasts’ stories; history.