when you asked me, father, on how to make this diversity work
for all of us who had already become impatient about
peace,
i said it must be because the tower of babel still exists
here in one of our islands
where people still rely on words to thresh out their problems
and it is the same words that pulled the trigger
that opened the barrel of the sonnamagans in all of us,
there is a careful way of using words, but first that tower of babel must
be bombed
pulverized as you said it before
because by doing so
what leaves us to really work to understand is the lesson of a destruction
the crumpled stones, the remaining dusts that settles in our foreheads
the open space left after
can and will always be our best teacher
when we all have nothing
that can be a good beginning.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem