Promises

Open words to the wounds, for Fayez

The heart cries a howling, tears overrun in red,

I sob and I keep on turning

As it aches me to a nightmare,

At night, eyes asleep in bed.

It’s a shame son, a false motif that upended,

That wraps around you like a vile serpent, screeching now and not letting go.

A dire feeling. Dread, not at all infinitesimal.

So here goes a Sorry, from us to acknowledge

and promise, to come around.

With which, we gather and make a pledge: to relate, to recover and to rise.

Know it must be the hardest thing to believe, or tolerate now even, but… Sorry.

So truly.

Not only with Bills and Enactments, setting up of paper-shops and virtues over megaphones,

We’d show up and talk, rebound arguments and thus so communicate.

Gather ourselves up, get the ideology right.

Get go a commune. In action, enlightened.

It’ll be bigger than the town in no time — you’ll see!

And we’ll channel your coming of age, O what a prelude to the glorious future that’d be!

So inspirational that bildungsroman will be taken after,

To spread the vibe over many moons🌙

We’ll teach you, instill in you well, the corniest thing:

Love conquers all, and all you need is Love.