Only as a structure.
Pronouncing shapes like my shadow,
In this dark, lonely night..
As an abstract of a lazy,losing painter..
Weeping the tears of solitude.
Failing to smile,
For every time she tries
She fails to see my mother smiling.
She stands alone,
Just as a monument of silence.
Missing the songs of my sleep,
In this hostile, separated night.
When they came with their guns,
I know she did not panic.
When they broke off her doors and windows,
With the butts of their tyranny
I know she never pleded.
When they danced and joyed...
Kicking and throwing,
Breaking and burning,
Scattering her heart all around,
Raping her with their gun-guarded impotence..
I know,
She looked right into their eyes
And uttered with pride..
"I give roof to rebels,
I am their home,
I can not cry.."
She stands alone...
Empty without the echoes of slogans,
Torn apart by the rebellion.
Searching for the cigrettes of my father everywhere,
Longing for the lories of my mother again.
