Saturday, January 16, 2010

The Summer I Turned Twenty

They grew us up
Those midsummer nights on the roof of the neighbour,

As a kid I asked my mother
about the tragedies of her time,
how people would use open air as their tribune,
how she dreaded all her past.

Fathers claimed to have lost their youth,
to some hundred days of war and uprising.

But up,
they did not rise,
they grew.

And then,
they became our parents,
whom we thought had no childhood.

And now on the same path,
the same nation,
the same always dissatisfied men,
on the verge of growing up
into adults with no history about
how they preyed on the neighbour's daughter,
instead of waiting to hear them shout at a certain hour each night.


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