I heard a noise

like the hooves of horses of Cavalries.

The sound of the feet of refuge seekers in the desert

who in desperate escape and battles for life,

sailing towards their unknown destinations.

Paths so narrow, yet taken by multitudes

who choose to die rather than await deaths.

The case of vanishing smokes is another.

The carcasses celebrated by sea fishes

Unthinkable horrors of escaping

And those whose destinies were silent in the war-torn

Whose peace intruded rudely by unprovoked crises

Their souls yearn for safety and help

All we think, they’re desperate sojourners.

But they cry,

full of nocturnal tears;

Emotionally ripped apart in fears,

their smiles, a poker face.

In their bellies, lie oceans of tears

But like everyone else,

they have the capacity to love.

Like all of us,

they love to be loved

A little kindness, a flash of smile

Some welcoming arms, a kiss of care

Just an embrace,

Like wonder pills, doth heal invisible wounds

But can we just build a city,

a city where emotional sicknesses are healed?

Or can we build a city,

a city where bent  plants aren’t broken…

and where dying destinies aren’t buried?

I know some possibilities:

The unlimitedness of our collectiveness;

A city where everyone flourishes;

A clinic of soul, workshop of hope,

where we remain undivided despite diversity

And tears though unseen are wiped

And wounds not visible are dressed to heal.