TWILIGHT

during this aeon,

when leaves start to fall,
others already on the ground,
withered, weary,
after the scream
from the light above.

TEARS

murmuring the moments,

through this innocent mind now leaked,
scattered, gone by the wind,
up and down, so lost,
humming with the air.

CAST

the sound of dread

looking for twigs so nasty;
even the branches and trunks
are scenes so fragmentary;
just reminisce those days
how best was he,
how best was he:
sturdy, resilient;
now dwell in hostility,
bathe with incense.

BLOOD

shed the memories,

stained the grasses;
look at me not
turn away, heed not
when I fall down
so deep and dark
so deep and dark.

*a poem dedicated to the victims of wars and insurgencies around the world