In the distant, there is a broken mirror,
I can’t see myself clearly,
Yet the promises that it upholds bring me peace…
At an instance, I point at an atlas,
I ask, “where does it hurt?”
“Oh, child, everywhere.”
At first, I struggle to see what I want, but there, I see my personality shine,
My selflessness is begging to light, the fight to find humanity
The hymns of gratefulness…
All I need, all I need is rejoice,
A place where mothers who buried their loved ones are safe,
A place where tears that are shed aren’t made up of blood,
A place where the difficulties of sadness mends with happiness to recreate
A place where families who are separate are joined
A place where people can hold hand-in-hand without judgement
A place where we are free to cry our fears but feel safe proposing it.
A place where dreams can remake itself to become reality
A place where our heroes jump out of thin air without the villains attacking humanity.
I need a place, where life isn’t necessarily easy
but unfairness of war and hatred is gone,
I want the battlefields to be filled with flowers and kind words
Not sad remarks of motives.
No dead bodies.
No domestic violence. No breaking promises. No inequality. No wailing mothers with cut hands,
No elders weeping by graves wishing they were dead too.
No children wandering around crumbling villages--
searching for parents who lay beneath the rubble of their feet.
No judgment when that woman refuses to follow the orders of gender roles.
No violence when the cry for freedom begs to ring in the thick dusty air
No motives for land, greed, of envy, when all we have is everything around us
Not touching women who indulge in feeling the wind brush their hair,
No questions raised when all I want is to feel the silk of the soft wind,
Or the scorching sun basking on my skin,
Or heaven raining within my fingertips,
Or flying the words of justice to relit the fire deep in.
All smiles and toothy grins.
I need an atlas, to mend the world together…
I want the freedom to yell from the top of my lungs on why I deserve to believe in whatever I want.
Because my faith is everlasting, infinite in the skies but temporary in footprints
It begs me to release the pain of torture, of sadness and erase it with kindness and forgiving.
That gives me hope, the will to survive,
the will to cry, because someday, that day, we will be there…
At the end of the road, the air is filled with fog, but in the sliver of it, you can see a boy,
fighting his way to wave a flag proudly, up and down, side and over,
dancing in the smoke with youth.
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