this hope
you ask me to cling to
is indecent,
a conflict diamond you finger in your pocket
___
we are
pigments
bits of paper
dampness soiling ransacked shoes
plastic sheeting snapping against barking winds
razor wire glinting in search lights
searching
everywhere
but here
___
we are
tiny fires blazing
in metal trash bins
burning ourselves out
___
we are
shards
of peace
sinking
dead
in still dark waters
silenced
as a child
___
are we not
born
human
_________________
Copyright © 04/17/2024 by Christy Munson. All rights reserved.
About the Creator
Christy Munson
My words expose what I find real and worth exploring.
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