Cemetery of the Martyrs

The first real conversation we've had.
I venture a bold question.
              "What was it like here
                When communism fell?"

Storm brewing in the sky.
We are a long way from home,
And there is no cover between here and there.

Alket begins.
"Hoxha, the Dictator, was like a father to us.
He took care of us, and made us believe
We were the luckiest people in the world
Just because we were Albanians.
When he died?

We found out the truth. 
We are not lucky to be Albanians.
We are ashamed of our country.  Albania
Is the laughingstock of the world.
Our father
Lied to us.  And then he left us.

It was terrible. 
We thought we were happy
But we found out that we weren't.

Come, let us go home before it rains."

We are high on a hill
I can see the whole town from here
Burnt out buildings and ritzy hotels
Side by side.
They thought they were happy.

What is the difference
Between thinking you are happy
And actually being happy?

I walk home with Alket
And appreciate his silence.