Author: Saadut
•6:51 PM

Over the eastern hills, above lines of part felled tree trunks who once stood tall in resistance now left without epitaphs; right across the edge of the extending forest where trees branches stand out like fists in defiance, heavy skies overburdened with grey clouds embracing peaks in open arms, in robes of white that were coronated overnight. As the light go bleak, as clouds limit our views, darkness weighs over smokeless chimneys and barricades extend over spreading habitations of this city, a faint ray drops. 

On one distant but somber peak a cloud broke, opening up a slant of light, as if heavens were peeping down from a micro mosaic, as if a child had pushed open a small windowsill having just woken from a deep slumber and gazing at this world through sleepy eyes. As if starved eyes of the deprived were forcing open skeletal eyelids after a long drawn and frightening dark night; filtering briefs of sunlight from the corners of old creaky lattices that had been overrun by cobwebs of hopelessness in centuries of slavery and chains.

Back home by the Kings decree, hope and light have been declared ‘untraceable’ hence all windows have been ordered to be closed, habitations forced to dark dungeons . He probably visualizes not what we see, he believes not in our faith, he holds not to the hand of God. 

Meanwhile by the edge of the peaks where the steadfast mountains stand tall, where hands in branches raise fists in resistance; the window of light tearing from within dark and laden clouds lay open for the believer. 

And I believe. 

1st December, 2012 ; 18:45 
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