Lost

hill & hollow
They’ve gone lost children in the woods the trailing bread crumbs flown away with the crows no ravens to guide or chide to hurry home to go on down the road a bit twisted and turned lost lost lost and no where to hide a trees of forest a forest of trees where did they go and why oh why cant they be found
Tears have dried behind my eyes and left nothing but this stone in my throat choking off the words no words none they are lost wandering the desert for what seem forty years dusty and swollen my lips are parched for the want of words why oh why can’t I find them they have vanished in the fog of war or disaster or day to day to day to day to day in the forest the dark woods of nothing no words they are lost why oh why can’t I find them lost lost lost

 

How Can I

How can I speak?
How can my voice be heard
as I sit far away from that room
filled with bodies
blood
the smell of fear and gunpowder
still lingering in the air?

I sit-
childless-
and weep for the dead children.
I sit-
motherless-
and weep for the arms no longer holding their own.
I sit
and weep
for the brothers and sisters
fathers and mothers
friends and lovers
each one loved and filled with so much life
until ……..

How can I speak of such things?
How can my voice be heard?

How can I not?