Picture Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Picture

His face is bloody
Must've been beaten hard…

Oval now and shady
No more is as it was
‘Fresh, young'

'Culprit, ' he is called:
'Terrorist who has shot…'
They say I see the things…

I was caught at airport
Just because I had talked…
Defended what was right

Then was sent underground
Caught by walls; cement's white.

Beaten hard in blood
In Evin served some time
The best course in my life!

Jailers were there for work
Of ratios they spoke:
'Hey Ali…got your rice? '
'No, got meat and my oil…'
And so on and so on,
I watched them secretly
In glass of my watch; wore blind…

Hand in hand we waited in the line…
'Culprits' to Iran's dictators!

I saw same in Khojand
KGB's underground; men beaten
Broken their noses, hands and legs
Such courses taught me to
'Never judge in a rush;
See people and the why…'
Now this man in picture
Takes me there; talks, reminds.