Sept 13,2007 Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Sept 13,2007

Call me Indian
Call me Indian and with my brown eyes or black, I shall
Look into your blue eyes, or greens, that is like edge to
A dying wave in an infinite ocean, an undefinable one, I
Will ask you, to explain, “Why Indian? ” and I stare and I
Will wait; I know your answer is, and for sure ridiculous.
“Because…” you start to say and I laugh, shivering like a
Person in Africa or Afghanistan, with Malaria; left to die
No medicine; exploited so no power of purchase to buy.
Your top priority as we know was, superiority of market,
“Private ownership” and everything as commodity, labor
Too, as slave, Indian or cheap, in recent days; I request:
Call me the name you’ve been calling me for centuries to
Let me see the reality of you stupidly not realizing that I
Differ in skin, shape, outfit and culture. Lord how stupid
You are not to recognize. Let me laugh at you as you did.
Please call me Indian.