Secret Chest Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Secret chest

Like mother's small chest in ganja
There, later, the hen sat on her eggs.
My chest too, has secrets.

What if I, like Ahmad, had died young?
What if I, like farmers, had stayed on the farm?
What if I, like shepherds, had remained on my job?

Could I have been kidnapped on the sea?
Would I have ended in KGB?
Would have travelled to Russia?
Would I know of Huaris and Incas?
Would I have lost my health to insects?
(Trying to copy Fidel's Che)
Would I have missed my kids?
Would they be so rigid?

My chest has the secret as did old Grandma's.
Winding road underground, hidden door
The looters could not find when searching
Gold and jewels, valuable were in dark
Wheat in walls...some fruits also crops

What if I, like Ahmad, had died young?
Would I write any word, poem-like?
Would I have children whom I love?

Hers was art and handmade
My chest is, full of blood
Filled with pain
Poor my chest
Where is hers?