Because I do not know you, and I cannot see you
I want to ask a million questions
and hear a million stories…
How was your childhood?
Do you forgive your homeland?
What were your aspirations before war?
my palms exude sweat from my firmly clasped hands
I compress my eyes and pray a little harder
to summon you
You never answer me.
For you, I hopelessly cling
to my belief in the supernatural.
Perhaps one day,
your apparition will appear
before my poor eyes
and tell me all I wish to know.
Can you hear my thoughts?
Or should I ask you out loud?
I am a story that begins in the middle,
a jigsaw with a thou