by Karina Nguyen


Who says that I am weak ?

That I didn't fight with the fate ?


I'm in the bed.

I hear the millions of voices

Crying and struggling.

Civil warfare.


I can't help them, I can't.

Empty and silent as in the war

Inside of me.

Why is so quiet ?


I feel nothing except the white symphony of snow.

With red blood.

In a hospital.


And the world would say

"They were dying proudly

And silently. With stoned faces.

In a word, graciously".


I will still live

In the name of those who died.


I will still live as

A wave in the time of silence,

Like the water surface sleeps,

But only the sea is waiting for the swash.