Talkhan Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Talkhan

Then, when I can hardly remember;
Did I experience, or I heard?
My people travelled, self-sufficient.
On their donkeys, mules or horses,
In their backpack, woven from hair of the goats,
Toobreh…
They carried dried fruits and nuts, mainly
Apricots, mulberry, walnut and almond
Some knew of Talkhan…
Flour and almond mixed with mulberry, crushed
Or walnut…
They had roasted chickpeas, hemps and wheat…
Plus…

I was, or, we were independent
Self-sufficient; competent
And…
Till the hammer hit the chisel on the head.

No, I do not complain from “West and the rest”.
I am angry with me, with us
And how self-stabbing became our way
The knife cut its own handle by:

“Dehati”
“Giveh pa”
“Pacheh goshad”

“Villager”
“Wearer of the traditional shoes”
“User of traditional pants, loose cuffs”

With this I, like the First Nations
Lost my past gains, cultural
Thanks to the betrayer, not the gunner; brutal.

He is the lion when facing me
Disappearing in closet, hiding:
“A gunman is shooting; Parliament”

Let me wallow.