Life on hold
My internal clock is shattered into pieces
The 40 years of forced exile
Have no record in my book of memories
Chapters of lost titles
Blank sheets; page after page
Unseen pictures with no lines
Mysterious characters with no faces
Images that have neither shape nor colour
Invisible words that have no letters
Nor meanings
A sad story with an unwritten script

Life on hold

Ageing by the day
The head inflamed with grey hair
Swallowed by the dark sea of shame
Having to flee without facing the storm
Shaken by the gales of hurt and pain
With my roots uprooted
A freezing gloomy everlasting winter
Watching over my shoulders
Awaiting my decay

Life on hold

I was seven
I am seven
I will be seven
And I will stay seven
Until the day of my return
The pieces of my shattered clock
Will be put together, that day
And it will start ticking again
The pink and white blossoms of my spring
Will become something more than just a dream