Nakedness Poem by Philip Emmanuel Penaflor

Would you rather let loose the sword of Damocles
dangling above my head so I could unmask the
wolf beneath my sheepskin which is suffocating
my spirit as I gaze upon the plains of Aibak from
the hilltop of Takt-e-Rostam where there is
nothing but the weeping wind of stillness?

In stillness let me feel my nakedness under the
midday sun that hovers above the Samangan
and hark, can anyone hear my flaunting?
I am nothing but a tiny particle of dust blown
to any or every direction powerless against a
tiny whisper or whimper from the Hindu Kush.

Enter my thought and subdue my mind for
I shall offer no resistance as I have grown tired
of conquests that have vanquished nothing but
whatever is left of my own stubborn pride;
I don't need the pompous gun salutes, only
an understanding of what is real or illusion!