A new world

They spring up
from between the crevices
roots of the old branchless trees
dig deep to shake the foundations
of these cold structures.
The earth’s alive, the sea is awake
and in its rage
is washing everything away
to create a whole new world
Sitting within dead concrete walls
Minerva is painting life
Spraying colours, blue and green
on a land of black and grey
standing against a red sky

Another game - please?

The room is as we left it
it has been long
that these walls felt the warmth
of the sun.
Everything that was sleeping
with it for so long seems to have awakened
with the opening doors
I see you again
sitting by the window having tea
watching me
as i struggle with the horse
who did not know where to go
after you killed the queen
set a trap for the king
Your magic trick, was six moves.
I practiced it on the board for long, alone
Too long – too late
Now, my eyes look away from the board
there’s an empty chair before me.
now i know the six moves trick
but I so much want to lose another game.

Grief

Languages that were spoken

in war zones,

Words that they were to be

protected from, are now their own.

how can tender roots of kindness

make their way into the heart

when dreams are loaded

and floored with metal ?

Their minds are clouded

with the smoke and dust - that we raised.

Children - they no longer think of

wooden horses and paper boats...