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)
A memory that’s not yet old
Her, laying on my dorm room bed
Fever filling her head
Gun shots sounding closer and closer
Baghdad, what have we done?
I kiss her forehead, cover her with my blankets
Sister, what have we done?
I told her I have to step outside
But she couldn’t hear me
The small glass window was near me
And it was threatening to break
And everyone was screaming
I wished I’d been dreaming
But I thought I had to say my goodbyes
Sister we’ve come so far
This truth had to be told
Before our story got too old
And everyone forgot we existed
Poet, making sense of war, humanity, love and greed. Trying to find the magic in ordinary things.
I am Zee