In the heat of the Only Hope Left.

 

There was this lady I met at the bank today

She said the suicide rate goes higher in February

I said it might be the political situation

She said: No way, it’s the weather

People get depressed..

I said : who knows

I though…

Romania is a mother who’s not going to accept another rape

 

They passed a law

As if to make it legal-

Marital rape becomes,

All of a sudden

 right

My siblings took to the streets

2 o clock in the morning

Hands frozen,

Hearts beating

In the heat of the only Hope

Left.

Hope fades like blossom

At the end of Spring

But we know that

Flowers so magnificent bear fruit.

 

I am so far away,

Suffering diasporic guilt

I have the symptoms

Of a grieving person

Who refuses to go to the funeral

Because this simply can’t be true.

 

Our countries are our mothers

Sometimes they birth us

Sometimes adopt us.

 

And there are those who hit them in the face

Like drunken husbands,

I pray that drunken violent husbands,

Entitled, reeking of ignorance and scorn

To be imprisoned.

 

I pray that people who want their children mute

That hit them and kick them and torture them

Like they did in the 90’s

To pay for their deeds.

 

I am their wound that wants to heal

I am their pain that wants to scream

I am the love that wants to breath.

 

Whether I am here or there

I feel the same as them

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Author: My Little Incredible Life

Interested in the mind, the soul and how them two get on. I will try and explore a few experiences, some good some bad, some mine, some other's but I will write with honesty and truthfulness

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