Not My Day Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Not my day

I listen and observe;
She rehearses poem
Of herself being gate.

Revealing and sexy
It is of a divorce
Woman, hole…

Though funny
Serious…

Think of me in writing
Divorcing I, my, me…

Want to write
Not of me…

Of "The Day, "
A Birthday…

The child says:
"It is yours, not for me! "

Of anthems "National-Day, "
"You were born inside me,
Your birth means death of me! "

Want to think of the bars,
Of cages, and the walls,
Of shackles and blinds,
Government setting laws…

Hate them all!
Hate them all!
Hate them all!

Want to be the boy who
Grabbed the two sticks
For work of metalsmith;
Blew air and made heat,
Then, hammers hit anvil.

Sky is colourful,
Fireworks of artists
Race to fill every eye;
Spheres, lines, sparks.

It is birth of nation
And death of the others.

Want to write some poem
That sees and admires
Both born and the long dead.

Want to write without I
No use of "Me" and "My! "

Commonwealth comes to mind,
See the joys and red eyes…

Feel walking on shattered
Crystals of the hearts…

First Nations
Residents
Africa, America
And Islands…

Recall and remember
What told me a friend
About the "Red River."

"Had never been river
but blood had covered
the valleys in mountains! "
(Thanks to the invaders…)

They had killed First Nations
That were kind, simpler
Without guns and horses…

Want to write a poem
On butchered, Beheaded
But not in First Person.