Last day before the war
I can’t believe it, but I know it’s true:
“This is the end.” I head towards it.
A long bridge and a conversation with myself.
I beg the war: “Stop!”
I ask myself hastily:
“Where will it all end?”
Draw on a vape.
Leery feeling of artificiality.
I can barely breath.
Last day in my own country
Blurred view through dirty window.
Family standing there waving me off.
My legs are bruised from the suitcase.
I feel like I have gone blind.
I can’t see any future anymore.
Whose shoulders will I lean on now?
I’ve lost so much weight that I can see my bones through my shorts.
My eyes shimmer with hope for adventure.
A river of voices all around me.
Are those other people’s voices, or is my mind deceiving me?
I draw the curtains.
