If you look hard enough, in the corner of your eye…. You see it.
A blue standard, they call a symbol… it’s a fickle one, I say.
But….
They said this was democracy, one step forward to better, one more injustice fought,
all because of a victory, which was no victory,
but apparently no one asked for my opinion.
Does it matter?
That money goes to weapons. In favor of a war for peace. Or is it peace for war? Remind me.
There’s a hole in my memory, on this beautiful spring morning,
Entire communities kicked out of their houses,
an entire nation in division because its neighbors declared war on them just because they can,
Dictators, whose only mission is to be the only voice,
the only voice,
in an ocean of muffled silences, a muted radio in the corner of the world
Is that democracy? A muted voice? Because there are so many,
fighting to be heard
at this very moment.
So what is there to celebrate, except for half a history, long buried, but still unknown or vanished due to ego?
The Teapot and the Postbox 