Tuesday, August 23, 2016

Used to noise

I never realized I am so used to noise
to the rising of the day with rooster cries sending me
to the edge of my nerves, on foot, before my eyes can open
to the sound of morning prayer disturbing a sleep
which is always eventful with dreams bigger than my body
faint buildings tumbling, losing people at sea, coming back home
empty-handed like it is normal to wander
without aim in a place that constantly reminds me
I have not much time left
before the next bullet pierces my lungs

 I am so used to noise, a kid screaming
for a better day disguised under a constant request for ice-cream
to a swearing mouth of a neighbor at night or a movement
of the guys who secretly dance while they deny their sister
the ears for music

I am used to a thousand callers for my name
a hundred at zero distance shouting in my ear
unneeded information, like dust, like wind
always present, never doubted
used to all those around me who shout so I can listen
but never consider my need to hear them

but this is a heaven you give me, greenery
a house by a river, made of brick, brittle laughter and brown rice
tell me now, what do I do
with all of this silence?

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