Poetry

Refusing to be
healed.
A wound will stay awake.

Mired in bitter controversy,
the captain said-
the war was not a deliberate act of
atoning for the soul.

That prevents the sun
to come out after a long night.

You walk in the light years,
gaunt and dazed,
in pain of hunger. The words
hang in shame.

A city fails, for
another voice of verse,