(T)itle 48

February 23, 2014 § Leave a comment

One by one
they fell to the grave
as dominoes line up
and descend into defeat

Apart from the last one;
the hope
the dream
the goal
struggling to stand still,
like a paper burning
and the ashes forming
when it disappears
into thin air
and dissociates on the ground,
like dreams that die
when protestors stop, the rebellion
and call it a revolution.

Call us the terrorists!
when it is they who slaughter
the women and children
the elderly and the broken

It did not matter
for they wanted our land
not our country
not our people
nor the culture we represented
for they did not care
for us.

We would fall
one, one, one
and the atmosphere collapsed
when the last one
fell to the ground,
when the last one
could not hold on longer,

And we questioned
if we ever matter
to the others,
and we questioned
if there is need
to hold on to the tree
when it is burning;
“should we burn
or flee?”
for our people
for our religion
for our country.

One by one,
we surrendered.

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