Desert Gloom.

As I write this poem, Salakh Magamadov, LGBTQ activist and admin of the online atheist group, has been jailed and tortured in Chechnya, Russia. He was forced to make an apology video, admitting the existence of God. The lawyer has been denied access.

If you would like to find out more about the treatment of LGBTQ in Chechnya you can watch the groundbreaking documentary “Welcome to Chechnya” by HBO

Thank You

— — — — — — — — —

Oh lord,
don’t solidify my inners,
don’t imprint the mark of hate
on my face,
stop boiling my blood,
poisoning my heart.

Eyes are portal to the soul.
I need no facial expression
or hand gesticulation
to witness,
the barbaric horror
you find yourself in.

Poison burning slowly
when the law,
became the tongue of the viper,
when the maker silent
to the cry of the weak.

How is it to feel and see
no way out,
when medieval warlord wants to drink
your blood,
while ancient thieving kleptocrats
dancing on your bones?

Hell constructed,
brick by brick,
by the justice seekers,
must have failed to see
the invisible hand,
dripping evil, speaking hate.

Dear Salakh,
beautiful flower,
they try to rip you off the ground
to destroy the only color that you bring,
to the surrounding desert gloom.

Stay strong,
even if the hope runs dry,
even if the light is bleak.

As we race towards
the new medieval mess,
and prepare for sunless days
all my dreams and hopes
beg for the event
of the Ranneisance proportions,
ray of sun piercing through the grey.