War torn

Sodden monks are haunted, awash with rage
military men are bawling in the streets
babies howl their fury to an empty stage
the forgotten-old bang their plates for meat

There are flashes you pray to forget,
splitting the country open wide.
it’s their eyes that you see, flooding regret
as they’re taken by the tide..

I’m still, in the storm.
It holds a silence I know.
It knows nothing of reform.
It is merciless, falling snow.

I am numb, among them.
Still, within these trenches, amid this ebbing death
my body convulses, I am aspects of all these men,
I am every woman’s bomb-whistle breath…

my world bleeds into ruby-wet sheets,
loss, thrashes through the morphine haze

every snowflake detonates in my chest,
in the silence,
that is deafening

these days..

War torn

Karen01

Cape Town, South Africa

  • Artwork Comments 4

Artwork Comments

  • Sally Omar
  • Natella2020
  • SuliHawk
  • Karen01
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