today, an alley blew up into colours
a slow song of duality between war
and beautiful hues embedded the
sky with confusion- how could confetti
look like broken glass and screaming
children, crying adults and running
dogs- how could noise sound like
the start of a nightmare and darkness,
the tiny wounds that scream disease,
'save yourselves!' to the babies who
suck their mother's tears, 'run!' to the
ones who've always loved their homes
but now the corners of their mind is a
battlefield. forces of all kinds blow wind
to shut down the fractional catastrophe
that lasted for a lifetime ending with the
orchestral hymn of names of the dead-
voiceless ones who never made it.
of the ones who've harbored a home
under cars, on the road, among siren
sounds, bullet holes and metal rods,
their ghosts singing a slow song of war
for their loved ones whose lives have
been concealed in their minds.
YOU ARE READING
GROWING THORNS & DUST.
Poetry[ POETRY - SHORT POEMS - AN ANTHOLOGY ] WARNING: CONTAINS USAGE OF NOSTALGIC & TRIGGERED MANIA- A LIFE LIVED AND LOVED UNDER BLEEDING GUMS. photo cr: hollis brown thornton on flickr #4 in poetrycollection [28-11-2021]