Steveston Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Steveston

I was in cannery
On a tour, observing.

And he sat in wheelchair
Enjoyed scene of ocean.

His time now,
Mine of past…

He smoked and drank
I stared and I felt sacked.

He, became amusement,
Used my lens, took picture.

Before man, we, three,
A woman, I, Kevin…

Young boy, four, his mother,
Respectful, exception…

Of Yukon, a Northern
With great heart, brain.

We walked, I took pictures
Of her son, sea, beaches.

Saw no whale, just one seal
That mastered swimming.

Left them for cannery,
Started with short film.

Butterfly of conscious
Flapped wings of questions
About the nonwhites there,
Japs, Chines, old Nations:
'Why ignored, deleted…? '

'Why rename landscapes,
Most valleys, heights, rivers? '