Emily Dickinson Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Emily Dickinson

Radio talks about:
"Emily Dickinson."

I hear and listen
To what the people say
But think of my childhood,
And "Ammeh Mah Beigom."

Emily was unknown
And today, is canon.

What about mother's aunt?

Not only was teacher
That also my friend…

She, in size, behaviour
Was same as Dickinson.

Of her I, know a lot
Though never is enough.

To a man was engaged
Fiancé fell and died
She remained celibate.

Small and tiny, calm
She asked me to go rub
On her back, a pomade.

She chose a small room
In house of mother' Mom.

Grandpa had long died!

Aunt lived life of dervish
Filled with the memories.

I am sure she cherished
Most of love stories,
One of them my parents'!

My parents were engaged
To meet, had to find ways.

Daddy came secretly
And climbed the mud wall
To the roof of the mud
That had hole to let sun
Send through enough light.

With his face framed there
He smiled and observed
Her, coming, walk, stay
With the gifts prepared.

Dad sent rope with his gifts
And pulled up my mom's gifts.

One winter it had rained
Beyond what roof could bear.

Roof collapsed and fell in
The lover, before he
Could talk with fiancé,
Love caused them disaster!

They had to separate
Before her father came.

Kind Ammeh came to help,
She, young and celibate,
Knew love very well.

Went around and spied:
"Clear…Hurry up! "

My love and my respect
For poet, Dickinson,
Is combined with what I
Think of my mother's aunt.

Hardly we know enough
About love in their hearts.