rejected

I counterplayed the thought 

for about a thousand times 

in my mind

to call or not to call

that is the question.

I didn’t want to.

my eyes got used

to the darkness of the night 

the same way people

get used to their own darkness 

and see it as light.

in bed

I thought about joy

again

I thought about Joy

again

I looked at my hands

these outstretched hands 

reflected many years of hard work. 

they perfumed the air

or my thoughts.

I could sense it

the smell the steel of the handcuffs

the smell of hard work with no wage

the smell of the lead of the bullets

the smell of sleepless days

the smell of wiped tears

the smell of old blood and cold blood

the smell of the pages of the Bible

the smell of the washed cleaned hands

the smell of a new beginning

the smell of math books

the smell of poemless nights

the smell of white chalk

the smell of a classroom.

this country-less immigrant

driven from his land

not accepted in the other one

for the colour of his hair

no country for young men.

broken

inside

no masks

outside

I could see the trace of brokenness

in his few white hairs

when I looked in the mirror

at the age of twenty-four.

maybe nobody understands

him or his pain

the pain to be rejected because of his faith 

rejected by all

yet accepted by God again

and again

and again.

that was enough for him

to continue

to leave the razor blade aside. 

still afraid

of the unknown

will he ever be able to love again? 

that fear forced him to retreat 

and not to call.

I didn’t want to call

I didn’t want to break again.

but I had to call

I gave her my word.

the words spoken

can not be returned.

a man keeps his word.