The green in the trees here point me to your Revolution. I tried to run away from the reality of the videos and pictures,
the twits and facebook....
to sleep mostly.
No Internet here.
This island is small but happy.
The trees are so green.
It rains every so often and the sound of the coqui is the background music.
I saw four shooting stars in the darkest night.
The last demonstration I attended was in front of the "nations capital" pool.
I sat by the water for a long time, trying to motivate myself to join the party.
I watched mostly.
It lost it shoar, its crys, its desperation for "HELP US"
And here we were in front of the building, where in its corridors, muscles are flexed and decisions made.
The air is clean here, the ocean breeze stills the soul.
Yet I am restless.
You are still being raped and tortured.
My role is small, I can do nothing without the others.
Maybe we have forgotten our roles.
They show up on time and they know their cues.
sort of.
We have stood in front of the white house, the capital, the sefarat.
We have screamed with them, FOR YOU.
some wear green.
some carry flags.
some say "I"
some say "me"
they carry signs that say "unite"
Yet their actions say otherwise
perhaps we have forgotten our lines as well.
What is this wall?
Tried to climb it from all directions
Tried to crush it with the only tool that my creator has blessed me with
What is this cancer?
The theatre is cold and I had to run away for a bit.
The cancerous energy of the islamic republic forced us to join YOUR Revolution, but the disease has found its way onto our stage and caused division once again.
Forgive us NEDA.
May we hear your sweet whisper from behind this wall.
Back to reality tomorrow, back to battle.
