Few of my million daily thoughts, stories, and poems survive the battles in my head and make it to this blog.
Help me give them a louder voice.
(All poems are written by me, you can call me Zee)
She reveals pieces of herself, every now and then
On reflective surfaces when light is not too dim
Sun shines through the shattered window…
That window that could not withstand the blow
And the shaking of the ground
It was not a nightmare
It was her life
Where explosions mask cries
There she stood, praying to die
She asked for the meaning of life
Her town seemed like a soldier’s toy
In Iraq I buried that girl
SHE WAS ME
Poet, making sense of war, humanity, love and greed. Trying to find the magic in ordinary things.
I am Zee