Caricature
A bad imitation of a human,
faceless, like the company
he served, arrived and
hiding the packaged freedom
silently in his pockets
deaf freedom choked
from the excess lard he had
consumed in their last feast
sorrowful leftover of our old
glory and I, saddened by
the momentary loss of logic
leaned and smelled the tiny
jasmine flower, letting its
aroma fills my nostrils
emotional that I had become
to the point of tears: then,
it wasn’t far away anymore,
it wasn’t impossible. It was
here on the dusty sidewalk
here it was the Heavens
into which I surely entered
Manolis Aligizakis 