History- From a Child’s Point of View

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




strangerpaths View All →

Poet, making sense of war, humanity, love and greed. Trying to find the magic in ordinary things.
I am Zee

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: