Yours is not the face of a one who found haven.
One eye has been left open
in death; when you lay there, bleeding
on the soil of the border dividing
your land, what was last thing seen
by it? The night-sky above, stars hidden
in explosions? Or the grass carrying
your blood on its leaves, your life taken
by the pitiless enemy, whose humanity is forgotten?
Did they listen to your screams, those dealing
death and then with arrogance mercy denying?
Or did they silence their conscience, hid
it in the sounds of night broken
apart? There is no answer from the
apart? There is no answer from the
frozen lips.
21.02.2018-06.02.2022
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