My Baby Goats Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

My baby goats

Though the nail in a tree
If pulled out, is unseen
It remains over there,
With its pain in the veins.

The same are memories
Of the early childhood.

Here is one of such
When I was four or five.

Daddy came with smile,
Had brought me reward:
'Go to such, such place,
I spoke with a shepherd,
He shows you baby goats,
Be agent, go and select,
Four of the best as friends.'

And I did as was told,
Flew like, eagle's soar.

I was there in no time,
To obey Dad's advice.

We played, five us,
They listened to my call
And nibbled on the leaves
Of some branch I had picked.

Each minute, hour, day,
Saw them grow, get fatter
And I was their teacher
And taught them to play,
Using hornless foreheads.

I never thought about
The horns when grownups.

But they did, and my goats
Playful, came approached.

They played, I escaped
From the pain and hurt.

Baby goats, now full goats
Followed me, closed tight.

I headed for safe room,
Reaching out for the door
To close, with windows,
Saw the goats, after me
Being fast, they passed me.

Full of joy, using horns
They hit me, tore clothes.

Jumped under blankets
To be safe with cover
And they hit me harder.

Now, fear had doubled
From goats and parents
For tears in blankets…

All the goats were boys and
Raised for meat of winter.

I hated my father
For killing my friends.

Now, looking at the wall
I picture and recall
My friends and father
And the thing that happened.

Wonder where went decades!
Wonder where went decades!
Wonder where went decades!

Both mother and father
As well as goats, friends
Have long gone to graves.

I am sure of my way,
Am going to join them.

What remains is grave
Regardless of its guest,
Our host is Mother Earth.