Prena Poetry

As I watched the children younger than me—plucking grasses off the lawn and gifting it to the sun above. As I watched my mother fight her traumas, and as I watched the people around me waking up to carry their burden, and so easily smiling at the strangers they met. I began to fall in love, with the universe, with the people, with the innate sensation and with all the tiniest thing that existed with effort. And I cried, I cried so terribly at times because it felt so beautiful that it ached, but gave me life—a reason to exist. It was all so beautiful how we could forgive each other and spend our whole lifetime loving an enemy. Then I felt my burden shrink inside myself, when I woke up in the middle of the night and thought about the world that lived through all the turmoil and still rejoiced the history. The same world that mothered children who grew up to destroy each other and blame it on the earth for being harsh on them.


I cannot make the people understand about how it feels to have a bomb dropped in the middle of a lively world, which would turn everything into a history that will live in some pages of unread books and forgotten poetries. I do not hold the power to make a billion people believe in the beauty of love and life. I do not carry knowledge bigger than a size of a seed to change their perception. And I can never make the people understand that we are just a speck in this vast universe, we have the let things flow through us, we have to live through it and not rise with the intimidate hatred for the blood of our own brothers.


But I can be kind and I can truly love the people for who they are. And I will always choose to love, even if it aches.