AsI walk in this scarred land, I also walk in your heart.

The Queen of all Wonders has become a queen of bereavement.

With my hair loosen, face smeared and a black robe from my head to toe,

I moan for you, I kneel down scraping the earth until my nails break for you,

I cry as a woman in the ruin of Jerusalem did for you,

and I enter into a trance to plead for you.

Time and again, I offered you bouquets of flowers,

but you didn’t want to take them, I put in place all my musicians

and play a music that may touch the heart of Hades,

but you didn’t want to hear it, I received the Celestial Lake water

with my long hair and direct it onto the Earth,

but you made it unfit to drink, and I inspired sages and minstrels

to uplift, chastise, amend, entertain and enlighten you,

but you acted like a suitor in Odysseus’ house,

and I built havens that housed the guardian spirits of the earth,

but you dismantled them like an idiot on the throne of a king.

It is you, you and still you, don’t blame any others

for having more share of the destructions than you.

Look at what is happening under your feet,

taste what you eat and smell the air your nose inhales,

jump and swim in the water that are supposed to bring your joy,

and hear the voiceless screams of the killings that have been done,

hundreds of millions of lives in nature, hidden or in front of you.

What catastrophic scenes of carnage,

they could not have taken place without you;

they are the real pictures of your heart;

if your heart is not a ruin and refuses all my decorations,

then how can there be all those manifestations.

Discernthe most heinous weakness inside you.

If the most foul beast of Desire within you is sitting on a splendid sedan chair,

do you play a lesser evil by carrying it on your shoulder,

or have the courage to refuse your servitude,

or have the guts to throw it into the chasm if it has already burdened you?

                                              2015/11/19