You Will Not Change My Fate

Before the war in Syria, we did not know how to turn the autumn of life into a spring pulsing with vitality, nor did we experience how to breathe its gypsy air deeply without choking. Yet we understood that when the homeland groans in pain, the veil of truth is lifted, revealing what you once ignored and concealing what you knew.

Your heart eagerly listens to the icon of existence as you see many striving for justice while wielding the sword of falsehood.

And how some exploit you, greeting circumstances that mercilessly grind you down.

You often witness expressions of astonishment and questions stained with confusion, as your sense of hearing becomes far stronger than your sense of sight. Each day, you bid farewell to parts of your heart present before you in the court of feelings—have your emotions dulled as you grow accustomed to farewells and embrace the pain when death passes through? Or did you leave them on the borders of the homeland and its ruins as you crossed the traffic signal in escape?