We walked the sun-baked
road with creams of clay
on our feet, drank ghetto soups,
and concluded leftovers from
previous nights…
We hoped for the coming crumbs,
while the stars called us look up
at nights, there, we dreamt to fly….

At dawn, with fashion from
rat-made clothes, and the
smell of leftovers from
stupor-ed neighbours,
wheeled us to hope, as we
pleaded for crumbs and brunch…
We kept all alive, because at dawn,
we must fly….

The dark life we lived,
with the sun up with
business, and the new places
to smell for hope, grew with
us too much from the journey.
Though sorrow spread nets to
drag behind, we dreamt still
how to fly….

The cages we made home,
and the prisons that took
the soul, killed like the caged
We presented flashy fashion
before world’s front, but the
rags tattered in the soul!
The bars walked with us
every life; only God to look…
Imprisoned we were, to fly….

The robbery of plenty wealth,
and death of the starters with
us, that left for dust, pushes forward…
The treasury treasures no more,
and we have learnt to dig tomorrow
alone, we must look up to fly….

Wailing of the suffering
ghettos, that place of workshop
to fly; the skeletons of babies
living, and the the eyes of their
mothers from cry, tell stretched story…
But if the skeletons survive,
hope says the children too,
will learn to fly….

The hustling of sincerity,
the patience with grace
to fly; the long road from
pain-infested hills, are
foreshadowed things for tomorrow…
The dreams we touched
the sky relieves us, and
the picture from God
says we will meet the sky,
and we will fly….

The garden of grace make
us dream no more, we reached
the place where creams of clay
from soiled legs forget behind,
and dreams hatched remaining
not like choked chick in shell…
Here, we take that one step
from God’s bell, and hang
the world behind, to see,
that we have been relieved
from the world to fly….


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