ON DEATH from shard mentality by e fishpool

country burns violently, as children are stole from their beds
i begin to think that no time has passed

just another wound, as we tend to those that might just take us with them
we go, into blood, flesh and bone

I arrived and slept like a baby
news that makes it all feel pointless
or infected by the unrelenting wounds of colonialism
tampered

cries thick and deep muffles the sound, cry into dirt, inhale insect and choke

speaking to me
throwing me back into the thick of it all

reality
in some form
write it down