Golden Turkey Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Golden Turkey

In the days when nature
Truly meant nature
As mother to all of elephants
And the whales of oceans,
The mankind in tribes, families
Gathered, danced and feasted
Summer's end and harvest
When crops were gathered
In the bags and placed
In the right storage…

Joyfully, everywhere
In every continent,
In many varied ways,
Families with members
Came for joy, little rest;
They danced to celebrate
For thanking the provider.

Some called him Inti and
Some called him Izad and
Others gave other names.

The women, together
Helped to cook, prepare
A meal that would be shared.

Christians' popes, fathers
Slowly fooled people;
They hid past with the dirt
To built "Thanksgiving Day! "
Which is known by turkey
Stuffed and turned golden
In a large, large plate
To be king on table…

The main cause and reason
was ignored, forgotten,
And format became film
To be sold for commerce
While causing culture change.

Same is with "Day of Dead"
That has been polluted
With the lies made up by
The Popes and Christians!

British, Christians' "Thanksgiving, "
Is hollow of meaning.
It is show, pretence on a core
Of truth; devoted men, women
That loved and respected Creator.

Then, farmers, gatherers
And hunters and leaders,
Men, women, children
Sat around same table
With food to decorate
A cause to celebrate.

With no talk of skies,
With no talk of harvest,
With no talk of seasons,
With no talk of the ploughs,
Sowing seeds in autumn
And the cold of winter
And fire in centre
And elders, children
And peoples' relations
Useless is "Thanksgiving"
In the towns and cities
That break families
With hives that squeeze
To "Silence, " cause "Deafness"
To the next-door-neighbours
Who live in same corridors?

Since today's holiday
Is made to separate
Poverty and richness
It is a mural, meaningless
With artist left and gone
To answer the question:
"What about yester-years? "