Tehran Tumour Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Tehran Tumour

He sent text, we chatted
For less than an hour,
Rarely this can happen.

He, son of my friends
Is friend and teacher.

His father was dentist
And mother, pharmacist.

His father is Kurdish
And mother Tabari.

He was born in Shiraz,
Into rich history!

I know him from when
He was born, was baby,
For half a century!

They have been the torches
In my life's dark tunnel.

His mother is my age
Dad, older by decade.

He, himself, genius,
Is victim of the waves.

One more, shocked by thunder
That came with the changes,
Local, international...

After years in Europe
Now he lives in Tehran
But must be too busy
With living for nothing!

We never talk about
My teen years, I as child
And growth of Tehran.

Then, city was palm size
But suddenly faced rush
Of people seeking job.

"Money is plenty
In corners of Tehran, "
Was the time's slogan.

Vacated villages!

Jalal said, in writing:
"Tehran is growing
As does a tumour…"
Possibly of cancer!

Read "Pier" of Orwell
For writing my essay…

Saw the same in London
And cities of Europe…

Large cities kill gardens
And with it the angels
And their birds, flowers.

Cities have converted
Mankind of all genders
Into belts, conveyors,
To carry filth, sewage
Of the rich and faithless.

Rich, wealthy oligarch
Easily saddle us,
We succumb to muzzle.

When one goes to Egypt
Visits the pyramids
Of Pharaohs, not slaves!

I go to Amazon
Sit to fill that River
With sorrow, my tears!