I have tried finding my shadow
In the rays of light that fell from
My mother's eyes- looking at the clock
Ticking for the last second,
Held onto things a boy held onto
And saw God weeping with his father's portrait
And the sky, shutting itself into
The silence of places with mourning wings.
My brother's cries are cities with burnt men
I do not know how to convince him
That life is a series of events
That hold our bodies with fragile hands
Some of which leaves us with bleeding tongues
Some- teach us to embrace our ghosts
Some- name us after our demons
Others, dumb the voices in our throats
Where birds are haunted for making nests out of their bones.
A prose trailed my skin with the craftiness of a poem;
-it was a girl rising to the moon with songs
Within the castle of her lover's memories
-another girl, sneaking into the next pages of life
Through the openings on her skin
- a boy, feasting with dogs- mistaken for gods
He was told they're the thin lines
Between the earth and the seventh-heaven
Where everyone is at peace with their broken piece(s)
-another boy, finding home on maps
Drawn on papers- stained with blood
-another, tracing the route to paradise
Through the hell-like lines on his palms.
'There's nowhere safe on this part'
Said a man who meant 'life is ambiguous' - passing through fire, without burning.