My country has migrated and left us alone;
my city, my street exist no more.
The land drank the blood and ate all the people
and eventually digested everyone.
Now scarred we stand and wildly shake,
knees deep in a no man’s lake,
unusually frail and too close to break,
pretending we’re still alive and awake.
We’re deceiving ourselves or at least we try.
We keep watching the sooty sky,
ignoring the slow and visible sinking,
into this lake and into its mud.
We’ve changed all the names and replaced all the colors,
hid former heroes, regrets and final numbers.
The water is getting well above our waists,
the clock is ticking it’s getting really late.
As the sun sets, it drills a hole in my heart.
If we could only love,
I know we would love each other
like a sister, like a brother.
But wherever we’d walk,
we’d be walking over bones,
Chakras of lands and Devil’s thrones .
Not so long ago there were no glories, nor victories,
only broke souls,
too poor to pay Charon
to get across the river Styx.
They still haunt the non-existing land,
not much different than you and me:
no road to take, no place to stand,
I’m like you, a no land’s man,
lost and transfixed
drowning in the river Styx.