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
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
My siblings took to the streets
2 o clock in the morning
In the heat of the only Hope
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