Deadly Disease of War.

She turned to the sun and smiled

her weakness fading it fast,

the light had raised hope that

somehow, now would be other.


She tolerated the torment of

inhuman hunger and grief, as

she was too young to know

of a people punishing children.


Her heart fluttered and fitted as

the sun rose to its heights, and

shifted her 





as death came to claim her.


Her sister watched wearily

she’d tried to eat weeds, 

and her writhing bloated 

belly freed her spirit from pain,


unnoticed, like a petal of 

blossom, floating gently back

to mother earth, snatched from

a frost bitten, bewildered tree.


No milk soft mother, foraging 

father or big, brave brothers,

they died weeks ago when

the army came and hell broke out.


They lay together rotting, forgotten

by a world,          wise in covid19,

but deaf to a child’s choked off

cry for crumbs from the rich man’s table.

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margins are a great place sometimes because it is where change happens fastest but it is also a horrible place when we are stuck in them and grace is the moment when we can see that someone cares.

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