Dear God,
I write to you from a forgotten corner on earth- my house is erect, my neighbours are alive.
None of the rapes in my locality have made it to the news hour debates in a while.
So I completely understand if you don't know me yet.
You sure have spoken to my friends, but we- we haven't really met.
I have heard of you ofcourse- devoted narrators
swearing over the honesty of their version on their lives,
It's somehow wrong to ask them questions about you,
so I nod,trying to figure out where the truth about you lies.
You've been to me like that cool senior in school, that everybody was talking about.
The charmer who was everywhere,
but when I chose a spot, he always chose to back out.
There were stories, theories, everything imaginable
revolving around him- a life extraordinary.
That was when I realised why I didn't get to see him-
I belonged to the class of boring within the ordinary .
So I hope and understand that you are with that boy my nephew's age ,
Whose toys began bleeding , whose childhood got locked in a cage,
who was dining with his family seconds before
turning into the only survivor, his house around him- a big heap of rubble.
I understand that you are busy cleaning up behind us-
we are adept at cooking up major trouble.
I hope that it isn't a sin to be frustrated from not knowing why , but to understand -I really try,
For when we were breaking down before the TV screens miles away, that boy- he couldn't even bring himself to cry.
So I'm sorry. I do not understand why
it is necessary to kill an entire country just because two leaders don't get along.
Or why it is important to brand us with scars,
to take away the people and places to which we belong.
If faith is a journey, then I'm definitely on board;
Alone- for when it comes to you , nobody seems to strike with me a common chord.
But it was never you, was it? My race itself seems to have lost their voice of reason.
They pick differences where you see none- they kill in the name of religion.
I hope that you haven't walked out, tired of picking up after us,
That you haven't given up putting back together the broken mess that is us.
I know that we are the only race that in peril hesitates to seek help from its own kind,
Who throws a blanket over all their woes, proclaiming confidently that they are doing just fine.
I hope that you understand that we are just trying not to get hurt , not to fall prey again to sweet lies.
I hope that you haven't walked out on us, flinching at the sad state of our terrible minds.
I write to you from a forgotten corner on earth- my house is erect, my neighbours are alive.
None of the rapes in my locality have made it to the news hour debates in a while.
So I completely understand if you don't know me yet.
You sure have spoken to my friends, but we- we haven't really met.
I have heard of you ofcourse- devoted narrators
swearing over the honesty of their version on their lives,
It's somehow wrong to ask them questions about you,
so I nod,trying to figure out where the truth about you lies.
You've been to me like that cool senior in school, that everybody was talking about.
The charmer who was everywhere,
but when I chose a spot, he always chose to back out.
There were stories, theories, everything imaginable
revolving around him- a life extraordinary.
That was when I realised why I didn't get to see him-
I belonged to the class of boring within the ordinary .
So I hope and understand that you are with that boy my nephew's age ,
Whose toys began bleeding , whose childhood got locked in a cage,
who was dining with his family seconds before
turning into the only survivor, his house around him- a big heap of rubble.
I understand that you are busy cleaning up behind us-
we are adept at cooking up major trouble.
I hope that it isn't a sin to be frustrated from not knowing why , but to understand -I really try,
For when we were breaking down before the TV screens miles away, that boy- he couldn't even bring himself to cry.
So I'm sorry. I do not understand why
it is necessary to kill an entire country just because two leaders don't get along.
Or why it is important to brand us with scars,
to take away the people and places to which we belong.
If faith is a journey, then I'm definitely on board;
Alone- for when it comes to you , nobody seems to strike with me a common chord.
But it was never you, was it? My race itself seems to have lost their voice of reason.
They pick differences where you see none- they kill in the name of religion.
I hope that you haven't walked out, tired of picking up after us,
That you haven't given up putting back together the broken mess that is us.
I know that we are the only race that in peril hesitates to seek help from its own kind,
Who throws a blanket over all their woes, proclaiming confidently that they are doing just fine.
I hope that you understand that we are just trying not to get hurt , not to fall prey again to sweet lies.
I hope that you haven't walked out on us, flinching at the sad state of our terrible minds.
