14 اپریل 2025

glopowrimo day 13

Same Thing

We are roaming through this brand new city, hands in hands, intoxicated
We’re here to wander this dreamscape for a while
And the web-news features a few kids colored in happiness..
A predictable prelude to the helpless crying of mothers, fading in from the far corner of the screen
Heavy tears can hinder the hearing and the sight, so does love
Might be the same thing-tears, love


When a rescue-smile pulls a wrecked sob from under the debris of sorrow,
A long-held breath finds space to taste freedom again,
Letting it unfurl its wings and rise free.
Try not to panic, “Do you like birds too?” doesn’t always precede a dead bird story
And a big blast can simply mean celebration in some cities
Music, art, and dance mean Living in some cities.


For children, memorizing new meanings or speaking the language of birds is easier
flying in the sky is easier
Easier than letting all hope die
Easier than counting tears or breaths, than falling in love wandering through dreams
But then again, birds and breaths, tears and love are the same things
Really just the same things

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