Charghad Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Charghad

The four fold on her head
Named “Charghad”
Made her my grandma
A small active ant
(Dad’s mama)
(Zoroastrian ancestors in our time)

“How much I …? ”
She shouted after us
(Her husband by our names)
(Two cousins)
(On trees and the walls two devils)
(All the time)
Our pants’ seats always torn.

Held needle
Held thread
And patches in her hand
(To repair and replace)

In one of summer days
Barefoot and, on my way
Headed home from Hana

A donkey on its back
Mid-age-man
I questioned: “What is that? ”

People there, in distance

I, a child, ran to watch
My eyes red; I’d cried

He’d told me:
“She has died.”
Meaning my grandma.

I got there and observed,
Dad had cried.
Father who was like rock.