Whirlwind Poem by Hanan Muzafar

Take me to heights,
from where I can fly;
Through rivers and meadows,
valleys and alleys,
I see your whirlwind.

What to take,
and from whom,
when everyone is lonely,
and naked in front of you;
For this grief consumes,
through your whirlwind.

We will talk tonight,
On the edge of fate,
where mankind meets his image;
I shall not complain,
what you took, but I've remorse,
what you gave.

To them, what I became,
Of man, animal, and slave;
Who dares to escape,
when everyone has to face,
This moment is enough:
You, me, and them.