Verse
Poems from Fragments of a Broken Homeland — a sequence about fear, resistance, and the cost of silence under dictatorship. Each poem is a compressed act of witness.
There was a crack in the past. But it was forbidden. We had laid a gravestone over it — because the past was the reason for the present.
Because knowing that living is a sentence. Because knowing that silence rots in the mouth, and its worms tremble like seas of fireflies.
Yesterday we searched for the light, and it wasn't there. Yesterday, that which man once named in silence died.
On the island, every word was a blunt knife that could sink into the wrong flesh. The informants multiplied on street corners, in beds, in sighs.