Cows And Me Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Cows and me

In cases, my teachers
-have been cows,
-in some way.

In village of my birth
-cows were rare and scarce.
-Guess I saw only one
-in my life over there.

But being nosey and curious
-saw them led to be killed
-in Tehran's abattoir.

The passage was narrow
-the cows went in a line
-no way to turn left, right
-and were whipped:
- "Go forward! "

I was child but still
-had sense to read how
-they hated the smell of blood…

The butchers were experts;
-held sharp knives, prepared
-to catch them and wrestle.

They grabbed cow by the neck
-pushed in nostrils two fingers,
- (The mid and the index)
-then fought and twisted.
-Fell the cow on ground
-and worked knife…

Second was in Azores
- (Terceira, Portugal)
-with culture of bullfight.

There was no matador,
-neither was arena.
-Many cows ran on road.

Young men were crazy in a race
-with the cows; I did same!

Felt the horn on my hind
-added to my speed, ran front
-but the cows were angered;
-made me jump over wall.

Dumb have been all along;
-hardly have opened eyes
-to the paths that cross.

Boards of wood made the wall,
-cobblestones other side.
-Fresh is pain in mind at all time.

My late, best, encounter
-aside when went to search
-and caress, take pictures,
-was near the Oxus
- "Ai-Khanoum! "

There, cows were grazing
-quiet were till reached
-the place of murder…

The blood was fresh;
-shouted cows very loud,
-whined, gathered, one crowd!

Their voices had flames of torches
-like armies of old days
-Greco-Iran were among them.
-Then, Europe of today
-could have been, possibly
-nothing but egg, sperm…

I sought me safe place
-since could be targeted
-as devil in that game…

From then, I, always
-look at cows as teachers
-but not in Hindu way
-simply as a part of Nature.

This mother is great,
-human is only particle!