We Died When Freedom Burned
I sit, Where the ashes fills the air Where children are left crying Where starvation knocks your door Where infirmity governs Where red covers the streets. I imagine, For rainbow sprinkled icecream For echoing laughters For tropical fruits in the counter For moms weaving colored dresses For a couple with a newborn. I see, Every bomb holes marking between gravels Every military forces destroying Every raped village girls Every priest leaving churches Every rotting carcass between the bricks. I dream, About the Freedom Land About teenage boys returning home About passions written in paper About enchanted wedding About all the happy faces filled with hope and magic. I hear, That mesmerizing blast That glimpse of dust wind rage That humming of enemy personnel That shrieks of mockingbirds in the trees That man breathing out his last gulp of air. |