.
Two things happen whenever I stand before a mirror;
-I see the reflection of a boy whose skin is an incarnation of withered memories
-and of another boy whose body is a castle of silence.
I grew up in places fighting for space
In the eyes of women dinning with the night- naked
Women mourning their bodies in dark rooms- with moans,
Places where men trail the echoes of their own voices by diving into songs
Songs plaited over the earth with roses.
These places reflects the images of boys
Learning how to trail the wind
And those things that thrust their hearts with wild beats,
Boys on the street of survival
Whose stories are lame testaments of nights when the moon mock their boyhoods
And the stars, the radiance on their skin.
I’ve tried finding those places on maps
They said they live only in the dark corners of our hearts
Where we wrestle with our demons
And with those things that blend our shadows with dusty tales.
Maybe we're reflections of lost and won battles
Reflections of times we choke on soft dreams
For names named after gods.
‘Nothing unclad the image of God in a man
Than what he sees when he stand before the mirror’
Said a man whose body is a reflection of thoughts
Running through God’s mind, when he created man and made him a god.
