every red flower
that couldn’t bloom,
that was denied a spring,
now grows inside us.
we breathe to keep them alive
so their sky remains blue
and they might know
what tomorrow means.
there is a weight on our tiny shoulders
to carry voices that were once locked in vacuum,
to do everything right,
to build greenhouses by our words and intention.
but we don’t need broad strong shoulders
to carry this weight, to keep this valley alive.
we only need to unlearn
every cruelty we have ever been taught.
We twist in the grip
of our own prejudices.
The valleys of our hatred
have become a part of our scars
that has a throbbing bitterness,
that impairs our vision
and numbs our heart.
Our lives divided by this fissure into
one half looking for a way out of hostility
and other half feeding on it.
These lines that
connect to my heart,
pass through landscapes
devoid of human presence.
This frail thread
passes through valley of flowers
that have no color.
Through balconies overlooking
desolate streets and
sky crowded with stars.
Through stairs leading to floors
that no one visits.
Through the branches of old trees
broken in the storms.
Through abandoned toys in locked rooms
with no owners.
Through the warm sheets
where I rest with my dreams.
and bring loneliness of the world
that lies beside me,
while I wonder
why do I feel so hollow inside.