Page Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Page

I own lots of papers,
Some blank, rest written.

One page is strange
It, always, is folded.

It acts like magicians
With rabbits and pigeons.

Many times, is blank
Then attacks in flank.

The writings have formats,
Handwritten, calligraphs,
Drawings, animates,
Steady, with movements.

I sleep with this page,
Like addict that injects
Histories, foundations
Of the pasts, presents,
In trance, see last day,
Feel the joy and anger.

In times live in palace,
And in times in the cells
Of cruel governments!

Want to leave city, town,
Go, live in ancient times.

Hey, hunters, gatherers,
Come to me on my page
As stage, be actors…

Talk to me of your ways,
Train me, be mentors…

Days and nights I pray
To ignore those pages
And stick to this page.