September 11th, 2007

by myself

(no subject)

In Afghanistan landmines are the color
of candy wrappers
and children,
dirty hands and eager faces
reach for them
they way i reach for each of you
their innocence and hope
result in loss of limb
and death

when the sun drops in the sky
and dark blankets our home
we can't see the mines
often i hear them detonate
when a word is trapped

when a mine detonates
one must stand perfectly still
so i am afraid to move

i look only for shelter
and solace
i retreat inside and out
hiding from the explosions
covering ears, eyes
and heart
for there are still old scars there
and i protect it the way we want to
protect children from mines

i live in a battlefield and
i've lost the energy to play UN
to mediate

instead, it is safe in my room
and my little garden
where plants whisper
and never yell
where music is only as loud
as i need it to be
to drown out the voices
and the tick tick tick
tick tick tick
of landmines
buried in our home

There are landmines in our home
step gently.
They were left there from old words
speak softly.
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