My Joy Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

My joy

My joy is, as have said
- (times and times and again)
-door-knocking and chatting
-observing and learning.

Carina is great example.

I met her on Misty
-Number Eight.

Their house was a sample
-in look and architect.

If was heard patiently,
- (which I did, exactly)
-would talk and explain
-of blood, her parents,
-them leaving Birthplace
-that was in Middle East
-to ending here and…

Proud to have met her
-humbly I hugged her.

Her comments about me:
- "You are not yet tainted! "
-was too deep, meaningful
-in each word that she used.

"Why do we love and care
-when we leave, go away,
-but at home and back there
-shed blood, talk of hate? "

As she talked, every word
-was bullet, Revolver's,
-in my legs, heart and head!

I wished that she was wrong
-but sadly, she was not!
-Our blood is venom, poison!