I would have sent you a handful
size of my country sand for you
to know the texture of peace
but the gods have spilled the blood
of virgins on our earth so,
it emits the heat of vengeance.
I would have fetched the freshest lily
across to you to relish the scent of native love
but the odor of the wasted soul,
rotten dreams and stinking carcass
has spoilt the nectar’s source.
If you see a brimming sun,
it is not of this land. Ours is a wailing cloud…
