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To the Little Russians

Did you bid farewell to your parents this morning
when you left home and went to school?
A sunny September day, you expected to learn more
about the world, the beauty of it
in Russian poetries, pictures, stories and songs.
You'd expected to see your pals' faces,
the naughty one with his infamous innocent jokes,
the proud one shone with compliments of teachers,
the silly one who always lost in naive games...
You were there for knowledge and care, to share,
not bullets, nor fear.

Strangers in deceiving faces came
with a purpose you'd never understand,
in cursing steps that hid the fairies' laughters.
The playground shook, the windows trembled,
and the whole world fleed in smoke and fire.
You heard familiar voices, but they screamed
in the way only heard in nightmares.
"Home, home!" receded farther to further.
Tears became blood, when the metal rain shot,
and composed the most affecting murals in sight,
with accusations which shocked the world.
300 voices died out, and 500 were still mourning,
"A world of hatred we've been living, too short."

Your fathers wait in despair, mothers in tears,
pleading to see you segregated by just a wall,
where the sun does not shine, love not grow.
A few naked angels flee from fire,
souls scattered, they are embraced
in warm arms once missed, almost forever.
Yet, more others have their arms open to the air,
or to lost memories only belong to heaven.
Fly, fly, I wish you've only found the secret path,
to escape from the pain and terror,
to the other homeland with more comforting ground.
Maybe, maybe that's merely why
you left all your shoes behind.


Note: images from Sify News & Taipei Times.

posted at 2:15 AM | View by Post