What difference does it make
to be different in a world of equals
if your heart feels equal
to the ones of those who feel different?
The connections between souls
just as broken as yours,
what difference does it make?
They’re just lighter
less than twenty one grams.
You’re just lighter
leaving pieces of your soul
in others’ splintered hearts.
What difference does it make
if they feel heavy while carrying
your love, your grace, your strength?
Because this is what you do
and you still have so much to give
but what difference does it make?

Each night I find myself
grieving the death of
my unborn adolescent self,
the miscarriage of a body
which was already alive
but never dared to live.
How broke do I have to be
to put all the pieces
back together again?
Time’s only direction
is forward.
My mind’s only direction
is backward.
I only know how to speak in words
I didn’t have enough courage
to pronounce in the past.
My eyes only know how to stare
at suns already set and crescents
which are now full moons.
My heart has never loved before
and now it’s trying to do it
like a sixteen-year-old.
My unborn adolescent self,
the miscarriage of a body
which wasn’t really alive
and dares to live now
when it is too late.

Be the thunder that
breaks the silence
if noise is the only way
you have to be heard.
Be the thunder that
breaks the silence
after a lightning
triggers its violence
against your fragility.
Be the thunder that
makes the storm come.

I stopped looking
for my other half
in other people
the moment I realized
I was already whole
within myself.
I find no shame
in my solitude
now that alone
I do not feel lonely.

To all the people who
leave their homeland
to escape from their lives
unaware that they
won’t make it alive
on the other side,
oblivious to the horrific
idea that they will
scream and cry
while watching their
babies drown and die:
may the waves carry you
in a better world
than the one in which
we are living now.

And I am not in the mood
to look at the moon.
Show me the sun
in the hours of its rise
so my eyes will pay the price
for letting the memory of you
vanish from their dark irises;
those which will burn
along with the sun
and will have a reason to cry
while looking up to the sky.