standing at the door waiting

I stood at the waiting door

Waiting for the arrival of a treacherous impostor

He stole my breath and made me broken

Lost in a time that stole my memory

I wish he had never been created for me

So that I would not see a face that stole the walls

And played with my thoughts in the middle of the house

I ignored my pain and returned to the place of the flowers

I asked her in the tone of a confused questioner

Do you know who did this to the house?

She was silent and pointed at him with disapproval

A volcano of anger exploded inside me

Making the sky dark and exhausted

She scolded me for my poor choice

And said: Let us renew our hearts

And fill them with the enthusiasm of revolutionaries

And water all the flowers

And protect them from all dangers?

So if the damage increases

Who will know that it is colonialism?

And that the heart is burning

And that the flames of the explosion have intensified