To
the marchers of July 25
the world is the largest village I know
My only visitor
is the one to take me to those
who beat me to blood
to unconsciousness
and to the hospital
They don’t expect me to talk
I know nothing they don’t know already
they don’t need information
all they want is
to keep the ceremony going
During my endless time
between two visits
from that tiny rusty window
by the ceiling
I saw once
a little bird flying by
I saw him
so he could have seen me too
he could
couldn’t he?
did he?
It’s a possibility, after all
he could
How many times a day
I ask myself the same question
“It’s an obsession”
I hear you saying
If the bird saw me
then I’m not alone
if the bird who saw me
is a migrating bird
he might talk about me
to other birds
– migrating or not –
If the bird saw me
then I’m not alone
any more
R. Hiwa
2009-07-24#01.00
