Day: Dec 20, 2020

The echoes answered me over the emerald rooftops,

They palpitated through the evergreen hops

As I ran towards the rumbling mountains without a worry –

Some asked whether this was the Promised Land

But they knew this is a godless territory.

The voices chanted ageless rhymes I couldn’t translate.

I’m such a product of my times, all my morals are a bate,

Yet I came tête-à-tête with more olive branches with each step.

Most couldn’t believe their eyes, they stole glimpses

But always ended up holding a bayonet.

The whispers swirled gentler than the falling snow,

They landed in my hair, they muttered, “Darling, no.”

My body stood still, thoughts unruffled and lips serene.

Not a single soul dared to ask as they noticed my irises,

They were blooming sage green.