Feeling Brutal Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Feeling brutal

To ashes, is burned down,
Hawaii,
And I feel brutal,
Talking or writing down,
A poem on the blood.

Is painful to see one,
Injured, hurt, punctured ball,
Yet, using the index,
Pointing at the far,
Back, front, all around,
Playing with your thumb,
Up and down!

"In such a position,
Do you feel the others?
Do you feel Sudanese?
Syrians? Lebanese?
The Afghans? Iraqis?
Bloodied Persian Gulf?
Guantanamo? Abu-Ghraib?
Kabulis in Bagram?
Pakistan, Imran Khan?
And Neda and Mahsa,
Killed like sheep, in Iran? "

To ashes are burned down,
Towns, cities in Ukraine,
And I feel brutal,
Talking or writing down,
A poem on corpses, in blood.

But poets must not write,
Only of the sunrise,
Color shades in the clouds,
And the waves of beaches,
Men, women, children,
Laughing loud, half drunk.

Poets must have big hearts,
To see deep, and too wide.