I heard a noise
like the hooves of horses of Cavalries.
The sound of the feet of refuge seekers in the desert
who in desperate escape and battles for life,
sailing towards their unknown destinations.
Paths so narrow, yet taken by multitudes
who choose to die rather than await deaths.
The case of vanishing smokes is another.
The carcasses celebrated by sea fishes
Unthinkable horrors of escaping
And those whose destinies were silent in the war-torn
Whose peace intruded rudely by unprovoked crises
Their souls yearn for safety and help
All we think, they’re desperate sojourners.
But they cry,
full of nocturnal tears;
Emotionally ripped apart in fears,
their smiles, a poker face.
In their bellies, lie oceans of tears
But like everyone else,
they have the capacity to love.
Like all of us,
they love to be loved
A little kindness, a flash of smile
Some welcoming arms, a kiss of care
Just an embrace,
Like wonder pills, doth heal invisible wounds
But can we just build a city,
a city where emotional sicknesses are healed?
Or can we build a city,
a city where bent plants aren’t broken…
and where dying destinies aren’t buried?
I know some possibilities:
The unlimitedness of our collectiveness;
A city where everyone flourishes;
A clinic of soul, workshop of hope,
where we remain undivided despite diversity
And tears though unseen are wiped
And wounds not visible are dressed to heal.