Frayed Identity

Inner lining unseen

An extra layer for the skin

A filter of deadly rays of light

A cover for our naked parts

Seasons come

Seasons fade

Inner desires

And the yearning for the sensual caresses

Of the cold wind of our cousins across the seas

Coerced and tricked us

Blindly,

We stripped

And ripped off our inner linings

Alas,

The cold winds of our cousins

Remained with our cousins

Our skins are now burnt

And blackened by the searing heat

From those deadly light rays

Time returns with its offspring

And we are still here

Unaware

Of our shredded seams

In Search Of A Hero

Sun rises, sun sets

A day rises, a day falls

A year appears, a year dies

And my people continue to seek a hero

A hero to plead their cause; to understand their desires

Who will that hero be?

Where is he?

Where is our hero?

My people need a hero who’d bring justice to the afflicted
One in whose palm justice finds comfort
My people need a hero who’d dirty his hands with the poor in the field
One in whose mind walks a craving to understand their plight
Let the hero show himself by writing down the numerous wrongs
And with each wrong, apply a belonging right
 Our hero should not only be the voice crying out for the oppressed
But also, be the hand lifting off their stress
He shouldn't only feel for their heart-searing hurts
But also, be a soothing balm, calming their sore spirits
Let that hero accept the miscarriages of their fathers
And comfort their mothers with an assuring embrace
 Are you that hero?
Would you crush all defrauders with a chain
And shackle all destructive leeches till they bruise in pain?
Would you decapitate all degenerate and heartless hearts
And yank out the hearts of unkind and brainless heads?
Can you?
 Let the hero come upon us like the rising sun
And show his full splendor at midday
Let the hero be the mild rain that caresses our soil
Enticing and coercing unwilling seeds to germinate
Let the hero be the wind wandering the sea shore
Blowing away all worries and heartaches in that moment
Let the hero be a rose, whose thorn pricks a lover
Reminding us of love entwined with a scolding power

Where is our hero?

Where is he?

Who will that hero be?

We need a hero to plead our cause; to understand our desires

We continue to await that hero

A year appears, a year dies again

A day rises, a day falls again

The sun rises, the sun sets, again.