TRUST
We do not find trust on the street,nor folded beneath the pillow,nor planted on the balcony like a flower or a bramble,nor photographed and framed, at the entrance to the heart, or beneath the heel.
No, no!
Trust takes running to be earned.It takes claws, it takes knees, it takes groaning.It takes falling and rising a thousand times,without crying out,without letting the other know you are limping.
You must spit at yourself in the mirror, for your mistakes, lick your wounds,then kiss the purity you kept hidden in the pockets of the ego,change your lifestyle, the curtains of your perspective, your armchair and your skin,when until yesterday you did not see the potholes, the bends, the trash,embrace the dawn, when others say, “Night has fallen!”you must dream only of light, where shadows hold council but have no teeth.
Where the heart beats in fear but does not turn back even when the dogs bark.We do not buy trust by selling our soul, our body, our dignity,nor by hanging out lies to dry,it takes guts, it takes nerve, it takes grinding of teeth, it takes fire, it takes a roasting spit.
It takes tigers that drink the flames and eagles that die in the air,falcons that dive into the abyss,they are not killed, but grow, gain strength and fly to conquer the skies.
It is not the property of people who play with fate, who are smug behind a necktie, whose souls are pitch-black, and who sell the dreams of others like junk at the Medrese market.
It is not a garment, worn by the living dead, by beasts in suits, by women in heels and without faith.
It is not like the cloud that drops five drops of hopeful rain and vanishes,to deceive with crumbs or bran.
It is not barren land, but moisture, roots, shoots that need watering and hoeing.
It takes claws to hold on so you don't smash your face, steps measured in centimeters, for life has abysses,it has steep slopes, it has resin, scratches and gunshots.
It has steppes and hooks, it has obstacles with thorns, it has spasms and cramps,it has barbed wire, rubber batons,that break your ribs and dreams, without a second thought,for they have the devil in their belly, he leads them.
We do not ask for trust as a dowry,before we are crowned in church,before the rice falls like warning stones upon our bangs,before the devil rears his head to throw ash in our eyes,before the irony of fate cowers behind the icon of love and does not flinch.
And the sun of disappointment runs a fever,awakenings wear shackles,evenings hold thieving promises,with a moon that chews on stones.
Ah!
Trust is a crown in the heart,a butterfly in the stomach, wiping a tear with a smile, a kiss on the lap of the moon, youth that does not drip blood.
Girls who smell of jasmine,not poison gas in the lungs.
Not grandfathers weeping over photos of grandsons,not mothers waiting at the gate like shadows,not daughters dragged by their hair.
It takes poppy-red maidens,
boys holding books and flowers for their friends, not stones and black tears.
Trust is not a church where the devil prays,nor a mosque where the ghoul combs his hair,nor a Bible with parrot words,a Quran with lawful jackals.
Nor a prayer for cheques and favors,a cross where youth is hung upside down.
Trust is a window where children are doves of peace.
Trust = FREEDOM
