My dearest Mother, did I die, once more!: A poem 

Mother, I woke up in the morning and felt 

the storm subside, only to reveal a distant pain! 

Like after the storm, what does one do? 

But feel the enervation or the energy to build  

Paradise again? Did I die, mother? Did I cry? 

Whose was the lie? Who was it that did conspire? 

I thought again, with a ponder in a reflection 

that there is only reincarnation between spider and fly! 

Should you teach your people that democracy 

was no freedom but your own mockery! 

Has the God in everyone failed to see? 

Is the thought of my wanting to go 

enough of a death? That I should stop to whisper in your  

ear: I just still have my convictions, Mother, but it’s time to make a getaway! 

And you whisper back in mine: Your beliefs are your Paradise, 

There is nothing more to say! They just can’t take them away! 

And then I think, even in my death, I’m living for another day!