Rebel
Is not hard to recall
Helpless child stand-watch
His mother in chador
On her head wearing veil like turban
He picks up one by one
Reads; solemnly prays
Into dark hand-stretched
She leaves one, lifts the next
Now teen-age, is watching
The same things are peaking
They are in lines and in rows
All shiny; they are white
Underneath sits tray
In tray warm's water
Its warmth is like hen's chest
Hatching machine unlike mom's
Has a light; is not dark
Chicks hatched then with mother
Now will hatch with water
They'd have crown since his mom
Wore turban as crown
"What is now? "
He questions.
Teenager sits and thinks
"Technology is rebel."
His chin sits in his palm
"Are we wise? Were they dumb? "
He scratches an ear:
"Something's wrong."
He's deep in his thoughts.
"I sure need a revisit, of mom's words."
He stares and smiles...
"Many eggs not twelve, as it was with the hen."
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem