Kinga Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Kinga

Like a fish in water
-her eyes wet, strange
-full of love and concern
-and rushed to get band-aid.

My finger was wounded
-do not know how and when.
-Ran blood, red, fresh.

Many times, I called her
-to tell her was too late!
-Meant to go, stop her.

Looking at name "Kinga, "
-told her of my thought, heart:
- "When I saw name Kinga
-on the list; in front,
-thought you are African! "
-But she was white, Polish!

Unsure, she explained:
- "Is Russian Princess
-of Ukrainian origin…"

I felt dumb, unaware!

Though we may meet again
-I had to sit, research
-her name and the Kinga
-beyond what she had said;
-explained, and I heard.

Kinga seems to be saint
-and patron of the salt…

Catholics have patrons
-too many in numbers
-for purpose and place,
-for people and causes
-from kids to grown…
- (To help and protect!)