From looking up at the sky

and crying from so much longing

sky-blue has seeped 

                                 into my eyes.

From growing maize in the fields

and crying so much from sadness

yellow has seeped

                              into my eyes.

 

Let soldiers go to war

lovers go to the garden

and teachers to the classroom,

      As for me, give me prayer beads

      and an old chair from the past

      So in this world I would be:

            a gatekeeper

            at the door of inner pain

      while books, laws and all religions

guarantee me death

                                 starving or in prison