i begin this poem
with inks of faded colors.
staring at the heap of broken images
falsely hanged in galleries of martyr
i pull their names,
in the darkest ways that refuses to fade away.
their fragmentation parading in my brain.
in this poem,
i ascend the descending fate of greens,
burnt and framed by multicolored fires. leaning and gasping for more than air
until they prolonged into candle-flames.
may your pieces find peace!
this is my best offering for your shatterings.
justice is a mission barely accomplished,
in a country where equality breathe
only in the voluminous case of soft and hard currencies, hierarchy of status.