Void Spaces

Since the first bomb blast in my town, I began talking to winds in strange languages. Since bayonets had been replaced by rapist-soldiers, I started building tin-nests on tall branches. Since bullets became drunk with madness of Trigger happy men in uniform, I have exiled My death to another place where love only Does the killing, where I could die sweetly, With no feelings of hatred or revenge. And to bring me back to the land of hypocrites, Mothers denuded themselves in the market-place, In broad daylight, and a sister of mine fasted for years, Only to be discarded as a torn flag after electoral mandates. Since my kid brother disappeared, without reasons Or questions, I keep looking at mirrors, searching for his face which Blurred away in cliched identity cards of a nation, Where my vers libre floats in void spaces, Like a stringless kite.