Land shaking under my feet. Red land. Yellow land. Wrinkled land.

Between the wrinkles of my face wisdom.

Experience is whispering to let them go because the land, we know, just won’t stop shaking.

Land fresh to my eyes. Land that smells like uncertainty. Less red land. Dry land.

Between the wounds in my feet is dust.

My father’s voice demanding not to let go because the land, perhaps, will stop shaking.

Blurred land. Compact land. Burning land.

In our burned-up throats the seek for certainty.

My mate tells me to pick up myself because the land, down there, will stop shaking.

Soft land where my tired feet are sinking. Golden land. Grainy land. Sand.

Between my encrusted eyelashes a vision.

We tell each other safety must be beyond this huge lake where the land, finally, will stop shaking.

Slight land. Blue land. Land made of water.

In our hearts safety begins to outline.

A mysterious language give us the order to get in so the land, it seem like saying, will stop shaking.

Faraway land. Land merging with the sky and the sea. Thin land.

In the stomach a new fear starts colouring up.

Breathing all this blue I feel like going crazy because the blue land, also, can’t stop shaking.

Land. Land was shaking. LAND!

In our tired hearts future seems possible.

In a slow heartbeat I feel life gushing again because I know that the land, over there, has never learned to shake.

Sea. No more land. Just sea.

The lungs filled up with water are letting us drown.

There’s no land, there’s no sea, there’s no fear and there’s no tiredness.

There’s no red, nor yellow, nor sand and neither sky.

There’s no future, there’s no certainty, there’s no time.

There’s no lack of work. There’s no danger if not the one you know well.

There’s no justice. There’s no MY land and YOUR land.

There’s no humanity if there’s no freedom and freedom shouldn’t be gained nor deserved

There’s no voice, nor reason, neither fear able to stop a MAN, just a man, trying to SAVE himself.


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