My Shrine Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

My shrine

I feel like I will once
Be found as
It has come in news.

He asked me if he could:
“Build shrine after years…? ”
He stopped, restart:
“…whenever you eat dust…? ”

I became divided
Selfish-side, and humble
Gave the rein to latter:
“Sure cannot…”

My softness gave friend the power:
“We live in Canada; forbidden is jungle….”
Took breath and refreshed:
“Can take you to Talish…”

Embarrassed; felt great:
“I have said what I want
My words are my grave
They must be scattered
Shall become tombstone
Round the world, all over
In such case I will have
Some masses of graves
Not just one under rock,
Nor shrine or unknown.”

My body, in bone form
Can be found in roots of
A tree when fallen
Bicentennial or thousand.