I wake with hands on keys
dripping words from my face.
I know nothing, just this quiver
of a cell in a momentary breeze.

Bombs break the silence.
Screams fill the air as
bodies carpet the land.
Radio waves tear holes in space.

I sip the morning, this undertaste
of death that binds to every joy
like the hint of bitterness in
the flesh of a peach.



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Dear Naga'ji

Welcome and thank you for sharing.

silent lotus

" May your voice be loving enough to silence your own fears." ..... silent lotus


This short post captures so much! It explains the "undertaste of death that binds to every joy" by evoking it. Now we have a frame within which we can extend our compassion to those we perceive as being ignorant or apathetic. Maybe they just don't like peaches crammed down their throats!

Editor, propeace.net

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