Descendant
The
door is still open
if
you’d ever come back home,
the
native, the narration
of
Adam and Eve before
the
sin from forbidden fruit.
The
door is still open
if
you’d ever come back home.
Home
never lies alone;
always
are a father and his son.
Seeds
in mother breed
in
the core of heart;
tears
have no colour
shine
mercury on cheeks.
The
door is still open
if
you’d ever come back home.
My
forefathers never wear shoes
My
father never looks back
I
never see any war
never
sleep empty stomach
my
mother everyday cooks.
I
was quite sure
my
sister might guess the truth;
she
never dares to speak
the
version of her own
mother
grows quick in her
learns
shortly the cupboards,
windows
and home; the seeds
that
breed in the core of heart.
The
door is still open
if
you’d ever come back home.
Life
like a deciduous leaf
clings
between deaths.
I
never like the street dogs
chaos,
hunger in beggars’ land
where
tender twigs always head up futile
trodden
among dried leaves.
I
walk with you a very long
I
could never come back home,
the
native, the narration
of
Adam and Eve before
the
sin from forbidden fruit;
though,
the door is still open!