Wednesday, April 3, 2013

Truce - Children of War by Sharee Anne Gorman (annienomad-cyberpoet)



(for all Children of War) 

I did not waken to
the sounds of war

morning tea
was not seasoned
by the mist of
crumbling mortar

 my gun,
left on a makeshift
and empty table

 …I go in search of food…

 the theater is gone,
broken rows of empty seats
no longer watch the stage

 where am I? 

signs are missing
familiar landmarks lie lost
among the scattered rubble

 …I hear the crying man before I see him…
 how long has he been crying?
by the looks of his dead family
must be about a week 
he’ll be gone soon too,
you can tell


there’s the pharmacy
blown to hell 

…“little bit” needs medicine… 
but I don’ know what kind
and I don’t know how much 


where’s the relief truck?
are they sending supplies?
 what day is it?
what year? 

the streets are so quiet 

silent, almost 
as if, grief
naturally muffles 

…I want to cry…but nothing comes… 

no tears
no prayers
no help 

I have to go back
 back and tell “little bit”,
still no food 
“little bit”,
who’s growing weaker
“little bit”,
who likes to bug me at school
“little bit”,
who will die
during my afternoon nap 

…today, I woke to find… 

I had slept through my sister’s
final farewell

(excerpt from my book "Legends, Myths & Journeys)