QUESTIONS

Now that the rain is falling
we are crying for the sun,
which we prayed against
as dawn was breaking
through the morning fog,
dews dropping on the
the forehead of the early risers:
what do we want?

Open the heart and dip a finger
into it to touch the luggage
piled up over the years,
take them out and search the
content in every tied bundle,
to find if there is an item
that belongs to a stranger:
what do you want?

After wake keep and burial,
we are expecting the corpse
to rise again from the union
of the sun and the rain,
to give a new name to
the season of our blood,
at the alter of our god:
of what do we complain?