"why do we have to march?" he asked me.
"to honour our country." i answered.
"i still don't understand!" he replied.
wish i could tell him i didn't either
because there's no independence
for those who come third.
but the illusion is better than nothing.
we marched. they and us.
they don't know what we have
been through: the wounds adorning
our minds, the fears hiding our patriotusm,
the armed uniforms beheading and
cutting hands, the forbidden things
we weren't taught.
(for some minutes
i thought about my father and
how difficult it is to look september 4th
in the eye.
i crept along the street)
yes,we marched(!?) as if it were september 7th.
we - the walking examples of silent anger,
the civil desobedients.
they - the hopeful actors/actresses of tomorow.
and as we left the stage,
we could only feel our land deserves
more than
our painful happiness,
our sheepish colaboration,
our calm indignation.
