Falluja

Sand blows across your boots
sharply raking your cornea
scraping your brain
arid is your heart,
dry is your mouth,
voiceless sounds scratch
at your throat
wanting expression
with no escape.
   
Small dead hands
bleed in your dreams
break your innocence
as you weep for loss
into the night sky,
ceaseless fire
endows your sleeplessness.

You will come home
the fires will wane,
with hope
you will mend
where the earth
is not yet parched
your throat
no longer dry,
you walk
among pines
observe birds
standing in water,
touch hands of
little ones skipping stones
across streams
in joyful play.

You see birds
high on the wing
leaking no jet fuel
feathered in peace
you lay down
your dreams change as
little pink fingers
grasp your thumbs in love.

 

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Raven Spirit
Poetry
Free Verse
writing Raven Spirit
I am fascinating, divine and full of it.
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Synopsis
Inspired by those who have served in Iraq.
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