Among those mounds of cold barbed wire you seem much more at home. Your heart belongs to thorns and briars among those mounds of cold barbed wire. And though you say you need to find her, since we left her alone among those mounds of cold barbed wire, you seem much more at home.
“Don’t jump,” he said, “From this height you will fly.” But caring words are useless to the dead. “(don’t) Jump” he said. I guess those words had jumbled in my head. who knows what he had really meant, I Don’t. “Jump,” he said, “From this height you will fly.”
Late at night in the cover of darkness, the young woman cries in her sleep. She cries for the baby bird with the broken wings who she buried early that morning. She cries for her homeland, a place where the sun never sets and the young never die. She cries for her pots of flowers that wilt in the wintery winds. She cries for her brother, her lover, every man she knows, because they are not permitted to cry for themselves. She cries for her father, who she never met, and her mother, who has become a stranger to her in this country. She cries for her sister, sent off to a loveless marriage far away. Late at night, the young woman cries for everyone and everything she knows. And she hopes, that someone, somewhere, cries for her too.