We string up the lanterns
Of our lives
I had forgotten
How firelight
Shines
Without blackout paper
So we are herded
Under this fragile
Tent of war
The Japanese sting from the heavens
Mothers spirit
Must find its own way
Past the conflict in the sky
We sit
And share stories of before
But stories drop
Like stones into the sea
I leave as
Concrete memories
Rise up like backwash
Threatening to drown me
I sigh
Lost in the pages of life
Perhaps somewhere people sleep in dry beds
And take the sun for granted
