Lost In The Cold Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Middle East, Canada
And the cold, and snow
This winter, Special

From my room; and inside
I observe
The snow and lost ones
On the tree, small hawk
A cockroach and something I don’t know
Could it be spider?
I can’t say, it may be
It is brown; is ant-like

This winter,
Special

Syrians are dying
Those around are calling

Hands freeze in pockets
Hearts and minds are rockets
Too busy with concerns
The needy abandoned

Palaces have furnace
Wine is served to the pets
Love and care are long dead

For wealthy shall we care?

I do not…I do not…I do not

Do I hate?

I’m fighting…I’m fighting…I’m fighting

To avoid…to avoid…to avoid…