Marcel Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Marcel

Sit here looking at
-the marcel in the hair.

And that hair belongs to
-sweetheart, or daughter
-or an old grandma
-or freshly mothered
-feeding kid, lowered-head
-or Dervish with Kashkool, Tabarzin
-or even Apache, or any indigenous
-or maybe religious, men, women.

Possibly the hair is of
-fighters, devoted
-Taliban to ISIS
-could be Che's…

Mesmerised, I have a daydream
-I open my skull pull brain
-and set it on table, spread
-as if a tablecloth…

In times I
-feel being officer
-sitting in command-post
-in front map of war
-talking with commanders
- "This is where our foe is…"

Mural that I make
-is made of the marcels
-many waves
-waves on waves
-of research and knowledge
-in the books and papers
-in pictures that I take
-in photos of friends
-by the rocks, statues
-hills, rivers to mountains
-to stars and clouds in skies
-as well as flower, encounters.

I use my patience to
-be honest in judgement
-and never act rampant.

I try to taste the
-fruits and vegetables
-by the land and water
-of where they have rooted
-with the time and weather
-over-all, climate…

Times and times, I have met
-the leaders that have most
-impact and influence
-on my mind, work and thoughts
-Jesus and Hussein and the El-Che.

All three are the same
-if are seen in detail.

All rebelled!
All rebelled!
All rebelled!

All aimed at same target…

Went against the evil!
Went against the evil!
Went against the evil!

I use the brushes.
I enjoy the colours.
I use nails as panels.

Since sky is canvas
-I spare the easels,
-let paint be in buckets.

None of these heroes was
-born to be what became!
-By corrupts of the days
-they became what became.