Not about a country By Izaskun Diaz

Not about a country

In my life, things are
only real when
the sun is mean, and
the strings are nylon

And grandpa’s angry
that it took too long
for ‘one’ country to
be two again

Or maybe more, or maybe none,
while he grew into an old man
dancing, singing, laughing
to piss them off

¡Libertad, libertad, libertad!

And when we’re clapping as
we speak, and then as we sing
clap clapclap
clap clapclap
Takatakataka takatakataka

Ta, And rhythm isn’t
discussed, like
air, like I’m hard to tell apart from
some tall girl on the street

The buildings are real
And the houses with the people
And the food, and any money
that is left un-spent

And a breakfast bar roars
at 7am in Estación Sur, and
nothing has to fall into place
for it to matter

By Izaskun Diaz


Izaskun Diaz is a young Spanish girl living in an old German neighborhood. She was born in Madrid and went to school there until she finished first grade. She thinks, dreams, and writes in English because she grew up outside of Spain. She has recently graduated from an international school in Hamburg, she is 18 years old, and she plans to study English literature at university. Her passions are music, literature, and people.

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