Lethally Illicit Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Lethally illicit

Want to read my book but,
Thanks to time, I cannot.

Allow thoughts to fly,
Be eagle and go high…

See at peak, its claws,
Grab the side of rock.

Then it lands on a branch,
With friend touching feather…

Later goes to the nest,
To see if chicks are fed.

It roams and my eyes read,
Words racing on the screen…

Keep mixing past and now,
Making them black, white,
To shape what I may write.

My mother rushes first:
"Frog was a tailor,
Kept the textile pieces,
From the customers,
Gave dress, not smalls,
Prophet, peace upon…
Saw the act with anger,
In a sigh, tailor changed,
The patches frog wears,
Are cloths that he kept."

I smile, retire…

My friend, of eighties,
I hear: "Loves to live,
He denounces dying! "

Son, tired, wife the same,
And daughter has escaped!
I smile, retire…

Want to come to terms with,
Many terms we live with,
Who imposed these decrees?

Find it hard and leave it,
So, smile, retire…

Now, am left with questions:
"What is life? Until when? "

Royally comes father,
He was always great,
A rich man with fables.

Fictionalized three men,
Father, son, grandson
Living in the same house.

Once, youngest is told to:
"Go and buy one basket."

"What is size? And what for?
The son looks and questions.

Goes to bazaar, returns,
And brings two baskets.

Father's jaw is fallen,
When hears wise answer:
"You, too, are getting old,
I must be prepared…"

Why not be free to,
Die and go with respect?

"Illicit? " who says? Why?
"Fentanyl, " "Illegal? "
"Opioid crisis…? "
To me are meaningless,
We can live to right age,
And one shall decide it…