Tuesday, 13 October 2009

Scribbled on the walls (of a transit camp)

Is my face a palimpsest
Of all that my eyes have seen
The heart endured

Or is it an iron mask
That shows more than it covers
Shouting silently

Is it an honest smile
That touch my eyes
Or will I smile again
Only when its time to die

I ask for forgiveness
But there is no one to forgive
I hope to forget
But nothing remains to forget