(A poem by Henoke Yeshetlla)
I woke up from my dream
…. And saw
The Image of Christ and Dionysus,
I don’t know if I felt the grief…
But I know I saw,
The teaching of the sacrifice
All is written in that cross.
And turned my face
At the corner of my room
I saw the groom
It was empress Taytu
I thought of her feat
The strength of her bone
The depths of her soul
And, here I am!
A stranger in a very strange land
Living life standing next to a shore
And counting down the sand….
Harping pain
crunching my teeth with disdain…
Here I am; surrounded by a mocking flock
Who can walk and talk
Within them lives a life of sarcasm.
But there…
At the dark corner of my room
Lit a light
I see the empress
leaning against the wall with grace
more living than I
With her piercing eye, asking me why?
I looked at the image…
From its dark corner, did project the search….
A journey to my void mentality,
to the seat of my washed Identity.
It stares unto me and bombarded my mind with a look,
Which I said it might mean this,
“Have you heard of the rabbit in ‘THE BARO’?”
Which tunneled its own cage
And hid under the darkness of its own mind.
Tell me, if its tunnel justifies its existence…
Or if it is an escape from its means…?”
Tell me…Shouted at me….
“Sitting in the darkness…
Is that the case?!!!
Is that the marvels of its life
the survival gesture
‘’TO BE OR NOT TO BE’
Nature and nurture…
Tell me…
Is that?!”
The image of the empress continued it curse ….
“When will your vision be served?
When will you say,
‘In this country,
Life lived with clarity and reason
With no shattering, gloomy armaments of disdain
Tell me when?’
When will you praise,
The achievements of your own times
Than living the past,
When will you deter your lip, from condemning your present?…
When will you un-shackle your soul
From the tone of such void accent…
And leave your own footprint
Tell me….
When will your image stands next to mine…
as a mother and granddaughter in mind….
Tell me….you the rabbits of THE BARO…?
Does your time has an end…
For the infant, whom turning to his mother’s breast
finding a dead corpus ….
It says on-to me,
“You are the rabbits of the THE BARO
Sunk deep down in sorrow
Waiting for a new day, unless and otherwise tomorrow…”
Yes, I am…!
But there; at the dark corner of my room
where only on it, lit a light….
I see the infiniteness
But leaning against the bounded corner with grace…
More living than I…
with her piercing eye…
Asking me why?
I woke up from my dream
…. And saw
The Image of Christ and Dionysus,
I don’t know if I felt the grief…
But I know I saw,
The teaching of the sacrifice
All is written in that cross.
And turned my face
At the corner of my room
I saw the groom
It was empress Taytu
I thought of her feat
The strength of her bone
The depths of her soul
And, here I am!
A stranger in a very strange land
Living life standing next to a shore
And counting down the sand….
Harping pain
crunching my teeth with disdain…
Here I am; surrounded by a mocking flock
Who can walk and talk
Within them lives a life of sarcasm.
But there…
At the dark corner of my room
Lit a light
I see the empress
leaning against the wall with grace
more living than I
With her piercing eye, asking me why?
I looked at the image…
From its dark corner, did project the search….
A journey to my void mentality,
to the seat of my washed Identity.
It stares unto me and bombarded my mind with a look,
Which I said it might mean this,
“Have you heard of the rabbit in ‘THE BARO’?”
Which tunneled its own cage
And hid under the darkness of its own mind.
Tell me, if its tunnel justifies its existence…
Or if it is an escape from its means…?”
Tell me…Shouted at me….
“Sitting in the darkness…
Is that the case?!!!
Is that the marvels of its life
the survival gesture
‘’TO BE OR NOT TO BE’
Nature and nurture…
Tell me…
Is that?!”
The image of the empress continued it curse ….
“When will your vision be served?
When will you say,
‘In this country,
Life lived with clarity and reason
With no shattering, gloomy armaments of disdain
Tell me when?’
When will you praise,
The achievements of your own times
Than living the past,
When will you deter your lip, from condemning your present?…
When will you un-shackle your soul
From the tone of such void accent…
And leave your own footprint
Tell me….
When will your image stands next to mine…
as a mother and granddaughter in mind….
Tell me….you the rabbits of THE BARO…?
Does your time has an end…
For the infant, whom turning to his mother’s breast
finding a dead corpus ….
It says on-to me,
“You are the rabbits of the THE BARO
Sunk deep down in sorrow
Waiting for a new day, unless and otherwise tomorrow…”
Yes, I am…!
But there; at the dark corner of my room
where only on it, lit a light….
I see the infiniteness
But leaning against the bounded corner with grace…
More living than I…
with her piercing eye…
Asking me why?
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