Today, my country is wailing
But I’m walking
My tiptoes may know otherwise
A complete rest forever
Let it not know if
It was carrying an epistle
Strengthening within every pace
No rut this land could trace out
And, it endures.
A murky smoke covers
Up in the sky
Andit thunders me
I’m engulfed amid thousands spree
Haunted by people procession
I smell as if I’m born today
With the vivid mind
Seeking freedom.
The motherland witnesses
The shroud of you
Some somber relic
In the monument of your despair
It could smell
Within the contour
Of the heightened wound
The nexus is slowly sprouting
To the brim
You creep with your squealing
The line linking
Ravine, hill, stream, mountain and forest
And they despair within its qualm.
I yell miles adrift
My sound could touch
Every moment you mourn
This land feels and I gaze
In an effort to freedom
Let people feel as they are
With the longest squabbling
They have created
Should it move on?
And tweak the thousand words
They have panicked
Unfathomable
Healing wound.
