At my early age of years three
ill-fated years-
the war destruction fell on Bagheria
unnerving news with schools closed
evacuations and displacements
uncontrolled explosions of the polveriera
an unleashed inferno
with carpet bombing
my mother and my aunt on top of me
to protect me in a dark night
from air raids in crescendo
We were overfilled with fear
sadness and terror
There were disastrous results
with houses in rubbles and hunger
Yet
to look at the city today
-I am amazed-
no one sees
of those fascist atrocities
a trace
But the wounds in my heart
are still deep and alive
No vestige -in spite-
of that desolation and destruction
has been left
and of that plight
The common pain that bounded us
has now evaporated
Invisible
Inaudible
Erased from memory
for we never mattered
Still
As soon as I will be gone
these deep wounds too
will disintegrate
More conflicts will follow
to bringing further war horrors
-it won’t be a long wait-
Conflicts will continue in sorrow
to more insanities generate
