Friday, 25 December 2015

A corner


In this strange land where I have no place, I found a bench on a park: my solace, my spot, my whereabouts and my piece of green. Here nothing touches.



Sunday, 13 December 2015

At Night



Armed Soldiers swarm the garden

Scorching everything in its path

Our home infested

Bodies crawling, wailing

Wretched hatchlings of a better time

A red tide covers the floor

The neighbours trembling

No more than cockroaches

Scrambled in crevices

Torn between salvation and succour

Nobody breathed for an eternity and a half

Infernal nights

Bedevilled the country

Only fear and despair

Hovering in the sky