These bodies are sons and daughters of Christ
squashed on walls like bugs
bleeding: fresh,wet,and dead
like an open sore
damned with bad memories
of collective grief of lips who say yes
to bodies that looks like theirs
How many boats are never spotted?
How many bodies are never fished from the sea?
This sea that hides many black bodies
stench of human misery:
of sweat, urine, vomit and blood
and flows from pains, from lack, from torture.