On Monday Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

On Monday

I went out
Saw the roads long and wide,
Empty like a jar
With a poor in slum.

Do not need the police
Unless for speeding
Which is much
As it seems.

I talk of Canada,
In the time of chaos!

Talk is of the Monday,
In second half of May
That starts the summer
Based on our calendar.

No fruit on trees
Branches, not heavy
To lower, be humble
And invite to harvest.

Together,
The disease called COVID
And Neighbour's Politics,
United, are killing…

Poor we are, with bad luck
Since they last quite long!

Like shepherd with the herd
Locked inside barn and pen
Most of us are tired…

Such life is sick, absurd!
Such life is sick, absurd!

Where the hell is the end?
Where the hell is the end?
Where the hell is the end?