Poem Of The Week: Letters From Serbia…

Left behind the border lines of fears and fate To die and rot, a state of triage To the gray skies we look, asking God why? The forgotten like a dusty book on a shelf A broken spirit, darkness, darker than a quarter past twelve With pity the moon gave us light Paper stained with blood and sand Between the lines my letter I write Zoejane, your face I will never see again Shattered promises, lost in the shadows without a trace No words, just pains, tears and worries I gnash, I lived to see my soldiers, and I watch their final breathe Nobody will live on to tell the stories Zoejane your name I call Love is far from here On Wounded Knee I crawl Look no further, beyond horizons for my welcome Each word I write slowly I die. The love we had and shared in the past Apologize to my unborn child I wish it wasn’t the last My tears on the floor These are my words my letter from WAR  

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This article was first published on 2nd November 2012 and updated on November 5th, 2012 at 12:18 pm

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