An afternoon
in the early spring,
the most recent war
has taken half a day
and more from you
today
and the lives of people
whose deaths are
yet to be quantified
into neat numbers
that give no room
for such things as identity
and all that made them
individuals
whose deaths
scar the century.
They lost everything:
Achievemements that could have been,
mundane joys and sorrows
died with each of them,
and you some hours
you would've have spent
not recounting events
but doing idle things,
scribblings
that live and die
with you.
16.-20.03.2026
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