When Shall I Begin Mourning
When shall I begin my mourning?
When the house’s bricks quiver at the shaking ground,
When the baby withers in her mother’s womb,
When childrens’ eyes crease with knowledge,
When man’s eyes crease with ignorance,
When men lose all strength,
When their edges soften into mud,
Then I shall begin my mourning.
When shall my tears nourish the ground?
When blood congeals on the streets,
When water will not quench my longing,
When husbands disappear,
When the country spits bullets,
When epiphanies join aristocrats,
When bound is the soil to my feet,
My tears shall nourish the ground.
When will the sun return?
When man moves his head towards the shade,
When a child burns her hands,
When a woman cuts her feet,
When glass is embedded in their hearts,
When scars embellish their faces,
When voices are forever strained,
When ears are forever ringing,
When mouths are forever bleeding,
When eyes are forever seeing,
When we are forever moving,
The sun will return, dim to experience.
Our questions will no longer be answers.