Grass Rods - Poem by Nassy Fesharaki
Grass soft, and green, and alive
He removed; moved them all
In place planted iron rods
Their heads sharp…kill or die.
Promenade once the job was over
Strolled with a walk and climbed
On the roof, saw building, satisfied
Looking down, saw the sharp rods.
“And what if…? ” in his mind.
His plane were bombing innocents
One of them on the roof; labourer:
“Sir you see your sharp hell? ”
Labourer knocked in chest and he fell.
On way down he heard man:
“Same is what you gave us.”
In the air and falling he noticed:
“My planes, my order, unsettled…”
Recognized the worker as one of unsettled
The act was a revenge, for those killed…
Iron rods stuck out of his mouth…
Words remained in his chest; it was late…
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