Of Knives and Names
I see her now,
A young woman wearing curly hair and
A name that means both hello and goodbye.
A name that also holds
Harmony, tranquility, completeness and peace.
A name that should have carried her
To the end of a long life.
She was looking ahead,
But the terrorists came from behind - cowards.
They swung their knives, cutting deep through
Friendly greetings, flesh, harmony, tranquility and peace.
When they were done, the only word left was
Not all the scars were revealed -
Just constellations of raised and hardened flesh.
Yet hidden inside
Ghostly fears clung to
A time of utter isolation and endless darkness,
Of thundering hoofs, riderless and lost,
When frightened eyes could not unsee
The desolation of hatred and unchained haughtiness.
Now he grazes in greener pastures
Touched each day by a new dawn.
Only the gentle hands of a child can touch the scars,
Reading the fear beneath the healed flesh,
Keeping faith that the horse's ultimate victory is
Not just surviving, but
Dispelling the murky fog of fear
To reclaim his soul.
Brief Bio: I often feel like a gazelle as I leap from hilltop to hilltop.
On one of these hills I recently published my memoir, my spiritual
journey from the hills of one land to another:
One of my poems based on this book was featured in the fall edition of Poetica Magazine.
I have also published stories and poetry in other various publications like Pyrokinection, Green Panda Press, Deronda Review, Jellyfish Whispers, Stepping Stones, IJN and Esra Magazine