I am back home
to the genesis of my holy crime
where the sun rises but never sets
and burns together with my droughted belly
I long for a muse to inspire my life's rhymes
I am back home
My child is my mother's own
They mine the dry soil;
They feed from the desertlands of the North's lost hope
and sleep in leaking huts—camp to blood thirsty flies!
I am back home
Served my time for my only sin
Committed to quench my family's hunger
Missiles thrown from chuckles in denunciation
No neighbors nor priests welcome the lost child
Mine is soul damned in the eyes of posterity
Maybe I am not home
But in Hell's open war
Where the sun rises in my stomach but never sets
and the night grows darker—forever in my head!
YOU ARE READING
IN THE EYES OF A GOD
PoetryThis second publication of poetry emerges from a deep reflection of society. Each poem explores problems ranging from our individual selves to society in general. Follow me through IN THE EYES OF A GOD to the reveal society's greatest flaws.
