My name is Rana
My name is Rana.
I am a tree.
I've seen boys grow old and old men die.
I've listened to the crying of women and attended the burials of their daughters.
Fifty years have passed and a thousand more will come.
I would weep if I could at the misery of life, albeit I cannot.
I am alive but lifeless, strong but helpless.
With every fruit, every leaf that I drop, I grow weaker.
Take away all the summers that will come, give me a day to feel.
I long to understand the hope, I long to feel, to weep.
I have given and taken.
I haven't though felt or mistaken.
The boy that climbed me not so long ago, has hung himself tonight.
On my arms Munkar rested after play, now he hangs, in shame and filth.
I fear I'll never learn how did he do that.
Rest my old friend; rest.
A new sun will rise in the morning and into the ground you will go.
Like all before you and those that are to.
I shall remain however.
Here and here; with myself.
Maybe I'll name myself better yet.
Munkar sounds like the name.
I am a tree.
I've seen boys grow old and old men die.
I've listened to the crying of women and attended the burials of their daughters.
Fifty years have passed and a thousand more will come.
I would weep if I could at the misery of life, albeit I cannot.
I am alive but lifeless, strong but helpless.
With every fruit, every leaf that I drop, I grow weaker.
Take away all the summers that will come, give me a day to feel.
I long to understand the hope, I long to feel, to weep.
I have given and taken.
I haven't though felt or mistaken.
The boy that climbed me not so long ago, has hung himself tonight.
On my arms Munkar rested after play, now he hangs, in shame and filth.
I fear I'll never learn how did he do that.
Rest my old friend; rest.
A new sun will rise in the morning and into the ground you will go.
Like all before you and those that are to.
I shall remain however.
Here and here; with myself.
Maybe I'll name myself better yet.
Munkar sounds like the name.
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