The Way to Be Free

I walk through the ashes and blood, wondering

Is there a beating heart amongst this debris?
A breathing lung or a moving finger
Instead of lost souls, wandering, searching…

I look up at the sky drying the tears I’m shedding

Is this what you call justice, a decree
Of cruelty and bitterness
Towards children crawled up on the ground, hiding…

I listen to the sound of hatred, raging

Is this how it has to be?
These souls nothing but a number
To the coward fate-handlers, watching, laughing

I grab a sword from a hand that was fighting

Is this the way to be free?
Will you grant us justice before our slumber?
Before the cowards win and we die, defying…

You're Mine

The breath of a skin against mine
Stole any control I had left
Over the cells that demanded him

I never knew the shivers a touch releases
Against my layer of senses
Or the ache for more and never having enough

I wanted to bury myself against his chest
Wrap myself around him
As if he’ll disappear at any second

I lay there
My fingers tracing stars
Along the tiny hairs of his chest

I look at his being
The skin that ignites under my touch
The eyes in which I saw constellations
And the mouth that drowned me so many times

“You’re mine,” I whisper in his ear
He smiles and grabs my waist
To claim me again and again…

A Tale of a Boy

Gather around people
And listen to what I have to say
It’s a tale of a boy
Who went astray

Day one, he was okay
Living with his family
Until one day
They were shot insensibly
And died while he begged them to stay
His life became a tragedy
And his soul turned grey

Day two, he ran away
To another place
To find his way
And start a new phase
Somewhere far away

Day three, he became a prey
To the strangers he met
Along the way
They grabbed him by the neck
And his skin, they tried to flay

Day four, he faced a fray
He tried to flee
But he had to obey
Those who ignored a plea
From a boy, from a stray

Day five, it was the day
The boy escaped
From the hate and the dismay
“Leave me be,” he said
“I need to find my way.”

Day six, his heart started to decay
He cried, for all he wanted
Was to buy a bouquet
For his loved ones, the dead
And find a way
To place it on their soil-bed
Before he slipped away

Day seven, the final day
He was filled with dread
And started to pray
To be killed, to join the dead
Because for him, it was the only way
To return home to his mother’s gingerbread
And make the nightmares go away