Every day begins with torture
and buildings on fire and people with placards
and dead bodies by the roadside and teargas
and height in data charges and missing children
and politicians fighting in the parliament
and angry policemen and prices turning into skyscrapers.
Lord, how did this place become harmful after you blessed it?
This country has evolved into a lion – but the people are Daniel –
God shuts its mouth.
Maybe everything that begins in chaos doesn’t end in chaos.
This place has taught us the anatomy of suffering – we draw
different structures during each month of the year.
Sometimes I wonder and drag God into the court of my mouth.
God, why did you put me into this shithole country?
Since the end of bullets, our sun has become harsh like the police on
days of protest.
The moon has lost its particles from the darkness of this place.
The cost of living is busy climbing the Burj Khalifa.
No safety – the night is made up of death.
The day is a river that drowns us back under our bedsheets – just as we
came out of it.
This country is fading away.
Dead country, living people.
