Haala Marikar

Dearest me of 2025, maybe,
Or perhaps I shouldn't have addressed you as 'me'?
We are distant, I know; myself and you,
We are no longer one, but two.
...

The sound of the splintering stones
Is all my whispered lullaby,
Your perseverance against weary bones
Carries its own sweet melody.
...

Black and white.
A juxtaposition.
A swan in flight,
A nesting raven.
...

In the mild breezes that spur on my oars,
In the keys that help unlock long-forgotten doors,
In the spring following harsh winters of hurt,
In the hope that green offers in shoots fresh out of earth,
...

Black and white.
A juxtaposition.
A swan in flight,
A nesting raven.
...

Yours are the tears of a martyr, my son,
Withhold not the streak of silver from the barrel of the gun,
For, yours are the fears of a martyr, my son,
Your fear means you are what only matters: human.
...