Stories Poem by gigy alex

Stories have been here for a long time,
they are always stories
whether it is (her) story or (his) story
events, backwashes and histories,
then comes the recounting.
Now it is the time of historiography
Words that retell world's curves and plots
graphs can never be perfect;
the rythm of the muffled cries,
heat of the withered breasts,
lost passion of the unkissed lips,
broken promises and unsuckling babies.

but who made them orphans?
who stripped tthem their lineage?
who are the looters?
who plundered in the name of crusades, annexations and treatises?
When cannons give way to handshakes
some become masters and some slaves,
yes it's the time of superpowers and menials
but not of love and care.
and that is the story.