Poetry: In Memory of Libya Again!

Dear Ketu,

I have to be careful what i say about you
You’re the bereaved, and as blood, i’d have to cry too.
The headlines are too many to know which is true,
But if all show your face,then one is about you.

I did not join the boat to Tripoli.
You left with our sisters
Now i hear you are tendered illegally in monopoly
After father left on your back, blisters.

If you are burnt, may i know how bad?
If you are angry, may i know how mad?
You fled from poverty, have you found food?
You complained about our vegetation, is the weather over there good?

You walked into this nightmare and left a bad dream at home.
At least the spirits in this graveyard are still allowed to roam.
The waters in those cities are not good enough to bathe a man.
We’ve seen the gloom on the face of the Mediterranean.

Is my sister still alive?
After the desert and the aggressive sea, will Europe let her survive?
My body must be buried on this land.
If the child must die first, shouldn’t the mother pour the sand?

Tripoli understands the struggle, but she feasts on the war
For some reasons they’d smuggle, and their promise they’d ignore
Our home is still a jungle, but we live by a law.
We still complain about mama’s soup, but wake up wanting more

We have chose to remain.
We could be locked up indoors, but we’d never be in chains
When will we remember that if we run we’d fight again?
Where is there a track without a train?
When will you return to claim your heritage again?
The cloud is our metaphor for rain.
When did we learn to embrace joy without the pain?
Marriages divide, families survive the strain.
Tripoli will repeat itself again,
And Europe won’t ever get to hear of your name.
The headlines will exhume these carcasses without shame
But i hope my letters wouldn’t have gone to you in vain.

Leonell