A migrant cry..

Behind those white clouds
Where my sky ends,
Are my children…

The day I left,
I wrapped my heart,
And secretly hid it
Under the crumbling roof...

I followed the many footsteps,
On the long pathway
Of our planned destiny…
Except my heart refused to leave …
The heart of a mother never leaves…
But for my children,
I will cross oceans,
and die a thousand times
For them, to live...

This sky holds the shadows of my story,
the shadow of the woman I used to be…
I suffocate in this migrant body…
These hands aren’t mine,
This soul isn’t mine...
I am defined by my bruised skin,
I weave my sorrow with every stitch,
And swallow my misery with every breath
Exploited?
Oppressed?
A Disposable body for the heartless greed?
I know I am…
I know I am…
But my children are my weakness
So, I hush…
I stop breathing… and I wait
Until our eyes will meet again…

Till then,
Their fading smiles are my backbones…
Their imagined happiness is my strength…
I breathe their love behind a cold screen
I caress their hair and kiss their cheeks,
then I close my eyes …and I pray,
that deep in their hearts they know,
their absent mama
never left...
She is still there…
Through the tears she shed
in every corner,
And the heart she left
under their crumbling roof...

March 2019