I am not the memory of love

I am not the memory of love

but

I will make you remember life

 

movements that were grasped by their minds-

but I wasn’t there…

So, I really can’t tell

 

Wasn’t it you?

The one shooting and taking notes

as they walked into the office-

into the school, church, temple…

into the mosque

 

But then again

I wasn’t there….

So, I really can’t say.

 

Pray or be shot

pay or be shot

 

Times and lives no longer visible

as you pass your days witnessing

massacres while you keep a straight face-

keep your pace

keep the grace in your pace as you go on your way.

 

    “somethings will never change.”              

 

A whisper is heard.

You paint your face

with mercury and lead

when you conceive that you

are already dead.

 

I was there

for 30 days and 30 nights-

immortality had to die.