Humanity is used to massacres. The fact that I’m not an abnormal shock and those tragic incidents has been eating nation’s souls for ages is what I must contempt. Air breeze is drowning in blood and injustice, so critical poisons are more influential and vivid than any merciful condolences pitying people are presenting me. They call it victory. Yes, why not? A great achievement of sublimity upon terrorism and brutality.
Most of my parts are immigrating , actually moving from a strength to another. They still remember the dark clouds their parents used to empty on their exhausted heads whenever a fiery visitor came by, they remember how sorrowful the statue of their son was in a moment of silence and shock. They remember poverty and early puberty. They remember those fossilized feelings very well, that nearly they forgot my kind memories with them. You can find them trying to complete their journeys with a bit of faith without belongings or bags. While meeting other immigrants carrying different hardships to ascertain that they are everywhere, literally everywhere. You can find the rest of my parts in women’s tears, graveyards, memories, diaries and even between stone fractions which were once upon a time used for construction.
You were and still blaming strange enemies for murdering your brothers, but blindly a skill of which you have is slaughtering each other frightfully as if creating more blood lakes is the winning that will sculpt the ideal homeland you always wanted to get. Now, I see kids who are supposed to ask their mothers for larger amounts of candies, asking careworn succorers whether they are dying like their moms or surviving while their whole face is covered with shabby bandages that words are barely spoken through the cracked lips. Congratulations, because each of you is insanely fighting to improve the superiority of his logic thus millions of contrasted logic standards are causing offensive losses.
If you are patient, time is not. And no sand grain or brick is handling the concern of maintaining my ancient walls. Birds are no longer singing, explosion voices are leading their talents to be shy. Peace is not soluble in rain drops anymore. Don’t you see this encroachment against jasmine and blueberry? Violation is gobbling your cruel unrealistic instincts. Let those weapons that can murder a daughter, son, parent impress your conventions, and leave me analyze the benefits of fixing a country by exterminating its everything.
Isn’t it true that life will attack all of us at the end? If it couldn’t steel your native land, it will steel a blessing you always counted, wish that forgot to become true, or your leverage. You can’t escape, not even resist.