Lunch With The Bomb Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Lunch with the bomb

I had lunch with young bomb
Honestly, it was fun.

He was what I had guessed
A dry, firm terrain
My approach had to be
Like the rain with plain.

He is a bearded young Sunni
For five times he prays!
I knew his questions
‘Those for him out of range.'

I could not, did not want
To ask him: "On whose land? "
In this we, both think the same
Land is all's, not Trump's
Or his kind's…
Since they are the corrupt
Take the land with tricks
First fence it and then walls
Shamelessly then declare:
"It is mine! ! ! "
I claim: "They are wrong and we fight
For our rights…Land is ours…
Land is farm and is house…
To men and animals it belongs…"

Doubtlessly they call me:
"Terrorist, communist…! "
Let them bark as they want.

But of lunch
I became a cushion and sponge
I absorbed every punch
Whatever he threw
To let him calm, cool down.

"God loves us, all of us, who am I? "
Showed him that I meant all:
"The Jews and Christians, Black, White…"