There is a harvest of hollow dudes
With which we settle score with past offenses
What was done when we still had faces
And could smile facing danger
And deeds done
Where rest does not rest
Oh what we did when we still had limbs
Carrying the mother’s kid
Going for a walk trough thin verse
To a place surrounded with crooked graves
Where we met when we still had a voice
But giants like us don’t beg mother said
We have an open wound and it’s called
Plenty of names until the right one
Comes to the right mind. I mean someone
Has been looking for us from a book city wide
Running when we could still mock we, the people.
Image credit : Kurdish women fighting Daesh
Frédéric Benqué 