poetry

from the article:

Survivors

We are alive this morning And are still here We cried a lot All night For those who wept and those who were killed But we are certain that hope is harder than despair We are alive Our sadness cannot be seen in the mirror Our names have lost two syllables And the souls of those who dreamt they were among us Three nights ago Are standing there waiting for us At the edge of the wind By the mountain top This is our thousandth night after a thousand After it will come a thousand and one nights The garden flew to the rooftop and the rooftop flew onto the neighbourhood's playground And the neighbourhood and the playground spread their ashes to ashes The envoys passed by and asked the killed and the killer Is it doomsday? Has the wolf made peace with the lamb at last? The sun is passing The moon is late The survival paths are filled with rubble and the mud of shame We will emerge fewer from every war We will emerge fewer from every peace From every freedom, prison, school From every dream Every road leads to us Every road leads to them And every winter and wheat field and plane We are alive this morning And are still here We cried a lot All night For those who wept and those who were killed But we are certain that hope is harder than despair And every time a candle fades We light up