Poem: My mother

poems

Every time I see pictures of the dead bodies,
I think of my mother.
Every time I hear about another war crime,
I think of my mother.
Every time I see tears,
I think of my mother.
I think of my mother,
Who thinks that one day this will lead to good,
Who thinks that one day someone will come and say ‘thanks’,
Who thinks that seventy, seventy percent are with them,
Which means they are right.

My mother who was so afraid –
‘What if the west just had attacked us?’
‘They have been preparing it for years little you know’ -she’d say,
‘Those chemical factories, Nazis – we had to protect ourselves!’.

Every time my heart aches,
My mind breaks,
I think of my mother,
My mother, who cannot see that our future and that of millions of sons and daughters are ruined just now, here and then,
For what?

‘I cannot come home anymore, mother, they won’t let me be free’
‘Why? I don’t think it is true’
‘Our president said that we are betrayers’
‘Oh, no – that’s wasn’t about you!’

Another day of war,
Lost lives – tragedy known for many – obvious one.
I think of my mother ,
Who thinks we are saviors,
Tit for tat preachers,
‘People will thank us – one day, you will see’, she says

Poem: I thought I knew

poems

I thought I knew what the pain is,
I thought it is to be left brokenhearted by someone you love/trust,
I thought it is saying goodbye to a friend, to my mother, whom I see so rarely.
I thought the pain was to stand, to hug in the airport and make promise to be back soon again, when you both know it will be years…
I thought the pain was to be homesick, lonely, not noticed in a big world,
I thought that pain was to lose someone young, someone old, to death…
To stand surrounded by others and mourn another lost life while mourning ours.
Little I knew about pain…

The pain could be somehow the one for all of us, held in a tiny heart of one person, the pain can be heavy, how can you hold it then?
The pain for ALL broken hearts, broken lives, broken hopes, future, right to happiness – taken away in two weeks for millions of those who share same home, same place, same sounds/words of pain too.

Two weeks…

The pain for our humanity, for loss of kindness, wisdom and reason..
The pain of not knowing could I have done something to stop this,
The pain of not knowing when happiness will be here again, when we can we smile without heaviness in the heart/mind/whole body…
How could we?
Blinded by the idea the world always gets better, not notice and not prevent so much pain…
Maybe, because like many, I only thought that I knew what the pain was…

Poem: Knows it All

poems

Someone who knows it all

Can’t hold himself all together when someone speaks,

Trembling with an urge…

‘Let me add here’, ‘let me add there’

I know it all!

Someone who doesn’t know it all,

Often is quiet,

Often sits there waiting,

Patiently letting those, those who speak,

Spill their waters of ignorance, with respect,

Letting them bounce off and on, on and off,

Till they run out, run out of empty words,

Filling the space which was full just before their mouth has opened..

Poem: A Man Who Laughed at the Funeral

poems

I heard the sound behind my back, 

It sounded at first like the bird which tickles the ground

Is someone laughing? Why not?

After all, for once, we are all around.

Isn’t it the time to share?

The true faces, the true feelings of ours?

Left to survive on this tiny Earth

Till someone will come and join with a giggle

Behind our backs again,

Yet, only when we cannot hear,

Cannot share this spirit, 

This fragile fresh air from beating hearts.