An old, faded map of my country hanged on the wall.
Wings open wide ..
I see the slim rivers ,
The faded streams
the naked hills ,
and the widowed fields .
In my fingers touch,
In the moonlit night ,
My eyes are blinded with the night .
I smell the sweat,
the dust, the love and the light ,
from the old Map
hanged on the nail ,hammered
on the wall in grey.
I smell the darkened grieves in the sands .
And the snow melts in the eyes closed .
I smell the sweat, the smiles, and the burnt sacred greens.
And I smell my mother's veil ,torn.
I see the faded moon,
the streams flow silent ,
the hills stand naked ,.
I ran my fingers over her lips closed,
palms opened with hunger,
and the eyes, drop tears and fears . .
I see the wrinkles ,
the blood stains ,
the suicide notes of lone rivers.,
On the Map ,
On the wall.