Passports Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Passports

When worked with the UN
Stories that I heard
Stood hairs on their ends.

Passports in Russia are
National, International…

He had none…

There, he, was a Tajik
For visa, had no need.

Told me of the point
That meant: "Is invalid! "

Seven years and no one
Noticed, nor, ever saw.

On the run, refugees,
Always, lose many things,
Mostly, their documents
That end with smugglers.

"If sees them the police
Will catch you, also me, "
They tell the homeless and
Some with mean intentions!

Later, they can be forged
And exchanged or be sold.

Forgery has been, is
For masters, an earning,
And for some, freedom
While for some is trade.

Not only KGB, CIA,
That many governments
Remain the most perfect
Liars, thieves, and forgers,
Cuba made one for Guevara.