Created Space

April 24, 08

Her dream,
Started as a trickle,
From Grandmother's garden.
Her harvest,
Plucked with care,
From her own eyes spilt tears.

Her children,
Now walk together,
In sequence of the army step.
Their blindfolds,
Are made of skin,
With charcoal drawn features.

When walking,
They leave this trail,
Not of blood but of dusty memory.
When looking,
You convince yourself,
They're your imaginative phantasy.

One of us,
Will follow the ghosts,
A little girl in white cotton dress.
She'll try,
To close her eyes,
While she makes her body dance.

So bruised,
That she caves in,
When you look again she's gone.
When she,
Took her steps,
She spilt glass instead of blood.

The children,
Will crawl into stone,
Stone books with their memoirs.
Their names,
You will remember,
Cause they will the children of freedom.

Ignored because of war.

-
Inspired by The Unforgiven by Metallica, the music video