The sky is noisy for our prayers are endless

Earth is swollen of our bones

Worms are never running out 

of fresh flesh to eat

Rivers remain fully red 

of our blood flowing like water from a lake

Fall of tears no longer a surprising event

For pillows know the story but can’t tell the tale,

Seeing death once or twice every week

One foot already standing unbalanced between death and life

Drops of hope and breakthrough falling off minute after another