(For Pa Salami)
What do you see in your sleep?
Layout of your very room barfed with dusts,
Sickening smell and a metropolis of cobwebs,
Then a voice standing like a reaper
To pull emotions into drip of deeps. You see everything
Behind your creaking door. Creaking door. Creaking door.
Winds walk with their fingers aloft
Making pacts to put you in your dreams;
They bend the back of trees and
Turn leaves into noisy trekkers;
How would you see yourself when you cannot think or feel or protest?
But you hear…every drooling dirge, every mourn, every everything
You come into your room, in dreams or reality, you do not know
Like yesterday, like every other day,
You tried to speak but your tongue is tied
You waited for your wives to see you are home,
You wanted to console your crying children, to plaster your presence in their mouth
But your fingers are feeble dreams, hopes that cannot hop…
You watched time swift, everything before you
Becomes sun in deserts, rain in rivers, you in no particular terminus
You come into this room, you find your dog bark and then leaves you
With the winds and the creaking door
Only they know you have truly come home.
You see everything
Behind your creaking, creaking, creaking door.
