White, black, green, and red,
Waving a flag.
Let the world know
There is a right to be alive—
The people of Palestine have,
In their own olive land.

It crawls
It stalls
It falls

Truth, buried deep
Lucid, asleep
Answers to keep
A journey, steep

Reverse time
Unwound rhyme
Lies to dine
Answers to find

It's there, everything you seek
These obfuscations reek
Behind the expressions of the meek
A spectacle, disillusion the weak

Dig
Dig
Dig

It's there, just waiting
Truth, casually abating
Under a pile of consecrating
The explanation not stating

So close
So lost

Go deeper!
I can't say more

What was the crucifixion
like on your mind so peaceful,
mind is full of those demons.

I'm trying to rebuild with wood,
birds in a mood intermewed
I wish to release them as doves.

Lonely is alone as my sad eyes,
Mary bleeds red every time she cries
and jig saw pieces of me will die.

I wish I could but my path to you
gets swallowed blackened to a fool,
and the air release of my lungs
has no angel which could have sung.

I have but memory fragments
Barely a magnet to attachment,
I wish my nailing to the boat
never sailed to coast to coast.

The birds weigh,
lightly
upon the grass,
and our hands
together,
we give grace
to Angels,
not demons.
Twigs within hands,
falling
like limits
of yellow sands,
and the insects,
will defect,
so truthfully.

Intensive care unit,
blood has dried on your skin,
where the tubes goes into veins,
It was so much the darkness.
Not the soul warmth remains
Never be a silver magnet,
Opposite of riding dolphin's fins,
I didn't mama wish to visit,
I would become trapped in sadness.

I knocked on the door.
She asked, "Who?"
I did not reply anything.

She opened the door
And saw nothing.

Yes, I was wrong,
and you were right.
I’ve agreed.

I’ve agreed:
I was wrong, like a devil,
and you were right, like a god.

I’ve accepted.
But here’s the irony—
I was created by you.

When I was a girl
I thought I could be anything I wanted
I didn’t realize I would grow up
To be a woman
That I was forever ‘and her’
Instead of them
That my father loved me
As an exception
And I would have to witness my sisters
Wither away in happiness
I found out that I was not the ‘public’
In public transportation
That I needed to switch my grocery run times
Every now and then
Discovered the places where a hat
Could be the best weapon
On Sundays, I dress up and buy pretty roses for my table
To keep from remembering that
If someone wanted
There was nothing I could do to stop them