“Wherever I go you cause me pain”
Waiting for the New Year to come, we lay the table.
But our hands hurt and our table is small.
In silence we pretend to look outside.
But outside no trees stand
and no birds fly.
Outside is cold and dark.
Inside we try to make a fire,
with damp wood and a few matches.
But cold and darkness are already there.
Our beds and clothes smell of them
and the more we try the more they spread.
And so, our wounds open,
and so, all the salt of the world is pouring in.
And we took our name from the door,
so that they can’t find us.
Because we’re proud
and we don’t understand how darkness came to find us.
But worst of all,
we don’t know how to make it go away.