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June 18, 2013


With a white stone in your fist.
You taught me how to drink.
One red slash and a kiss on the neck.
You taught me how to fight.
Driven into hungry ground.
The wail of air raid sirens.
I dreamt of the end of the world last night.

It was you who saw it in the sky.
Jehovah’s cruel and lonely eye.
And how quickly their little party ended.
As the love of God descended.
Black and white.
All the silence, lies and hate.
Were swallowed by the light.
I held you to me.
You smiled up into my face.
I kissed the top of your head.
And closed my eyes.

When I woke I was still alive.
And you were there and I was here.
Of all the precious stones you left.
The one I hold most dear.
Perhaps I still don’t love this life.
But at least I don’t fear death.


From → Poetry

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