Poetry

Our portraits faded
In this land of no opportunities
we bought a little hope
and earned a little tear
No colour for our eyes
No glitter for our lips

Our flowers died
No apples,nore oranges
No birds in our gardens
Hell is cold now
Heaven's too far
Battles started and seem to have
no end 
My nails are bloody from digging
bones from the dirt
Digging bones from the flesh
My womb is hungry for peace

In this land of no opportunities
only cascets travel the road at day
Only death by night

Our portraits faded
Rings and earrings
Tapistries from the walls
Tiny hidden notes
All gone

Letters travel  with no destination
They will tell stories
to the nations yet unborn
Mournings travel even faster
They will write  elegies
to the children unknown

Years shall pass
Armies will march
Songs shall be written and sang
Our portraist will be drawn
But no earth shall rise from these
waters 
No earth shall rise from these graves
Yesterday was too soon
Tomorrow all will be gone