They burnt the morning
on the pale green of wasted memories
with the fire of Creed
as God, the kind God
with the dry dance of his fingers
played peaceful melodies
and the skeletons of the green mind
raised hands in pray for the rain
and no one knew
that the wells of home-grown diseases
have swallowed the land dry
with their thirsty mind of dark days past and tomorrow
They burnt the morning
with the deep passage of red river
flowing from dark holes
to the hills of wonder
as God, the witness God shed tears in silence
helpless,
and wind brought the yellow dust of all days lost
The kind ghosts
over the gray remains of the unborn morning
in a desperate cry
waited and wondered for the rain
the forever rain to raise waves of storms
as ashes spread wide with the wind
at the faces of those
who burnt the ashes
in dark, dark, holes of today and tomorrow
They burnt the morning
when birds had fallen asleep
in the pure clouds
on the green mountain
as love, that thirsty creature of the human
dying helpless on our frozen hands
and God the merciful God
walked away in wonder
and shame rained from four corners of earth
on thirsty lands of dreams we held
As the morning fell sleep in vain
the silent voices cried in pain
to the deaf ears
where is God? children asked
where is God? fathers cried
where is God? mothers sang
waving their black bodies
in the dry air of green mountain
the rainless God raised to forget
as forgetting became the miracle of
all days the human lived
and pain turned old and gray
as the human’s repeated glances in the mirror of life
the skeletons of days we lived…
