Esra's Poem

We are the ones that disappeared,

That ran, that got lost, that chose to go.

We are the ones tricked or chosen, sold or taken by larger hands than ours.

We are the eyes that turned from the fist,

We are the feet that ran from the fear, from the anger, from the pain, from the empty promise of love and care.

We are the voices that whispered No.

We are the hands that could paint no more,

We are the minds that would not bend,

We are the bodies, trapped in fear, frozen and limp,

We are the ones that smiled with our faces, but cried rivers of blood from the dark of our souls.

We are the fingers that asked for a coin, that pulled at a coat, that begged to be heard.

To be seen.

To exist.

So. So. So think on me when you sit to a meal,

When you point to a colour or smile at the taste of a sweet picked in blood.

Talk to me when you turn from my voice,

Remember me when you say we all have choices.

For I am the eyes that see into your soul

And I can never be silenced.