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      Candles of Humanity

      A Poem by Wala Zaidan

      In my hopeless nights the cries are silent weeping onto my weak shoulders blood spilled on my chest, a truth unspeakably violent

      In my hopeless nights the funeral song is played by mendacious angels the dead is dancing with justice playing the song of freedom loudly echoing softly in my ears ''I am not afraid''

      In my lonely nights; it's dark. even the moon betrayed it's own promise So we lightened the Candles of humanity with our burning hearts

      just to see peace hung where Jesus was crucified a voice tamed by the sacred truth an illusion that's never seems to be denied and every time I try to drown my insane thoughts it just repeatedly gets baptized.

      Cure me, God. I carried a war zone in my own mentality I see nothing but Nameless gravestones dug under my tongue, and when I speak I speak their names with scars

      I question if life is a dream then we shouldn't blame no mankind for the cause of wars I hope this is not reality because every time I turn on the TV;

      loud explosive destroying my emotions, A scar of bright light hung in the bat-black sky, protecting myself from angry guilty bullets, and I can hear civilians screaming in rage but still waving the flag of peace, A flag that screams freedom Red blood sprayed from my wounds, Men were groaning and yowling as the battlefield became slick with guts, being swallowed by the battle ground, and river blood spilled into the air. It tasted bitter and sweet, then ...silence as the sky fades cobra-black

      i snapped out of my fantasy a instant regret of who I want to be I have become a revolution in my own mentality.

      I...I stand with you even when truth denied you Am with you at war too.

      I carry this young voice trapped inside of me She tells me stories of how paradise is full of beautiful people and trustful angels where every human being is equal

      but she weeps every night in my sleep, weeps for the world and it's greediness then she crawls back to her grave

      I don't know if it's a dream or my ill mind but she has become a voice inside me matter fact I still question if I wrote this poem

      for my words have set my voice free I have become a revolution of humanity a candle that burns daily.

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