The scars of war…
worn in nights of stolen happiness,
heard when sirens bleed,
following traverses undefined.
In sleeplessness I slumber,
and drums beat,
in rhythms of lands trapped in
stories yet to be told, waiting to be born.
How come I run, feet fiercely
rooted in this place where time
Hoping for daylight to wake.
Running, floating and flailing, yet I hear
No one, see none
open the door,
stretched out in beads of salt in dark wake of night!