My Story (A Word To The French Speaker Serge Dumont) Poem by Semir Avdic

My Story (A Word To The French Speaker Serge Dumont)



If a platinum Moon rise upon
My constellation of stars
On each July
And my upper consciousness becomes
Crispy northen ice swirling in glaciers
With my eyes longing to catch the tail of Aurora Borealis
On Canadian borders
I will know that loneliness has broke the entrance
Into my Southern breeze of summer in my soul
Converted with Eastern oriental rots of Ottomans
That made pale Slavic skin to fade away
And Prophet to become my ancestor
Than I shall know that Constantinople
Was meant to be my grave of life that was given me by
Force of nature
So willing not to avoid the history of killing
That put my crib into the context of a war
Were hawk was my best friend till I let
The Alps to approach with its fists
Punishing me for my barbarian heritage
Of Balkan wars and socialism that ripped off my
Country and made it a good product of separatism
Which eats layers of past till bones starts to fall out
And scream of genocide grow louder and louder
Than Munch's painting of pain and sorrow
That smiled to me in my dreams for four years
While mothers breasts was not enough to save a hungry child
While sister cried over brother's death
While convoy of people have left the homeland
And my eyes caught to be following the black demon
Whit its axe on each six bridges in center of the town
Waiting to take my head off in one day when gun powder
Enter my childish skin and become my natural odor
I was the potential victim to be sacrificed to
The Devils Of The War that flu around like eagles of not knowing
That my name survived Each nationalism that have drunk
The blood from its golden cup and today sitting in Hague
On its throne of punishment and shame waiting for blind justice
To arrive with sward and make final cut
Of nightmare that once have wanted to rule the world.
And here I am
Of once been shut in the darkness
Flying my long wanting flight
Of journey called life
Where I can pack all in one box
And take my Guernica under my arm…

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