A Handshake In Rain... Poem by Aleksandra Szymanska

Am I still your friend when so desperate I seek
the unwanted news I never seem to get,
guessing, wondering, trying hard to avoid
assumptions that weave misfortune's thread?

Am I still your friend when I try to hide
from the inquisitive eyes and controlling hand,
gasping heavily whilst catching scattered hope,
as I run, escaping the hostile, cold land?

Am I still your friend when I want to protect you
from the dark masks' frenzy and their dance of doom,
their voices that can lure you into a blind maze,
their lies that can leave you by loneliness' tomb?

Am I still your friend when I know that I'll fade
like dust on leaves washed by crystal, warm rain,
accused of black magic swiping the earth,
then unlawfully kept behind the bars of disdain?

Am I still your friend when I cry in silence
for the legions of ghosts claiming back their rights;
the ghosts of the land my soul was born from,
the land envied, then drowned in cold, long nights?

Am I still your friend when I simply don't dare
to built my happiness on the other's demise,
believing that freedom is a worthy jewel,
resplendent in but a different price?