Only with expiation and forgiveness of mutual sins,
Can we change ourselves, and maybe others, too.
Flock of roaming sheep, lost, wasted in hunger of wolves are left without a shepherd, who laying under the shade of centenary wood, dreams of the beginning. The sheep lost, the shepherd wakes up looking around toward the horizon! Notices that He is left alone after his doze on a summer day.
We wear masks to shut-up our mouths! Our lips remain invisible under them, Our teeth are not visible, too, Even the smile remains not a hidden secret, The bad smell, too, And the words we speak are not well articulated, with no regret. We do wear the masks to prevent the virus from entering in us, And vice versa, not letting go out from ourselves. We do wear a mask over our face-mask, The lipstick in women’s lips remains unseen, Same with botox in their swelled lips, Can’t feel even the breath. We wear original mask to cover the fakeness in this pandemic time, we follow the advice from the responsible institutions How to care about ourselves and the other, Although, most of us do not follow it. We do wear masks while we walk in the streets and When we see a familiar face, We take off the mask to greet them, as sign of respect!
My home is where I meet my silence, My breath, My soul, My fragility. At home I have my memories, My thoughts, My life. At home I have my happiness, I have myself, I have the hope, I have the future. At home I have my moments, The time, The space. At home I have my warmth, I have the fire, I have the ash, I have the light. At home I have my destiny, My wishes, My risks. At home I have my sky, I have my sun, I have my moon, I have my stars. At home, my home I have the access, I have the love, I have the harmony, I have eternity. At home, my home.
©2021 Faruk Buzhala
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