I saw your words etched down in spray paint,

BOLD CAPITAL LETTERS, on a rising pavement

in St. Julian’s Bay  as the sun would start to glisten

on the Valetta streets

and the isle of Comino would soon begin to heave

to the sound of vendors selling deckchairs and the sea would spoil

for a fight.

I saw your words and was puzzled by them, not by the words

for even the damaged can understand pain,

but by their placement, their specific duty in  time by unknown hand