I am unborn,

Like history lost in time

Like a lie yet untold

I walk, I talk, I drive the way

Possessed, obsessed by a recurrent urge to cry;

In my eyes one vision prevails

One fantasy undefined:

A blast of cold grief

Takes over the stage of an existence deemed futile..

Torrents of rain…in the black eye

The urge to cry…

Cry for the people I miss

Whose laughter lingers in the corridors and empty rooms of the mind

Cry for the people in solitude,

Merging with their craving for a tender heart

Cry for people in the street,

Young, ageless, bold, faceless,

Cry for the sick and old with no hand to hold

Left in some hall to host the eternal light

Cry for the moment missed , for the words unspoken

For the child deprived of care,

For the mother whose heart is broken;

Cry for no reason, just cry to free the soul

Anger, hatred, treason…my tears would wash it all

If only I could cry.

 

Angelique Fallah,        April 13, 2011