My Missing Children

My Missing Children

sept. 3rd, 2020.

Marisol Achirica.

Here is her bed

here is her doll

Where are her tears?

Can´t feel her joy!

¡My boy! My lungs cry

in a crucified gasp

when my heart replays

you shouting at a football game.

They say you are missing

They wrote you disappeared

and that puts you on a cloud,

laughing mischievously,

that´s just playing hide and seek

with me tickling you after…

No.

I wish you had disappeared

like a fairy, like Merlin,

taken by angels to be merry,

to be free.

NO.

I´m sunk in endless nightmares

of you being enslaved

of you being tortured

of you being lost in the dark

eaten slowly by beasts.

I ran to the power of the world,

so sure they would hurry with us

in search of you, to bring you home.

“A girl missing?!” They surely scream!

“A boy lost?!”  They surely shout!

All I found was numbers

a list of printed letters

You are not a name

You are not a date

YOU ARE MY FLESH!

MY BLOOD! MY BREATH!

You had a favorite dress

You made jokes and stroked my hair

you threw tantrums

about a cake

In our table, you had a place.

YOU KNEW MY NAME.

They say you are missing.

I say You are SCARED,

You are crying as We are

You are afraid and exhausted

to go to bed

You scream every second:

FIND ME DADDY!

MOTHER, I´M NOT DEAD!

You my love, my darling

you will never be the same.

Our souls cry in silence

“But…Nobody cares…??!!”

I sin from wishing you alive

I sin from wishing you were dead…

Nobody cares, in fact:

recently I learned

abducted children, abducted people,

part of the economy sustain.

(The BEAST of the economy

eats children

and women and friends)

“They” only wish, is my child,

Not theirs

“They”, too, are numbers,

Forgot they are soul and flesh.

Should I go to look for you

in every hole and every cave?

Should I stay home and wait for you

to welcome and kiss and embrace?

My daughter, my boy,

or yours, or theirs,

tortured, sold, terrorized!

We are all ONE PARENT

WE all lost our faith.