Greeting Card Maker | Poem Art Generator

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dust-wearing-wind carries a feeble cry in its palm, settles it near ears that can no longer hear. Cries arise from hollows of your hungry face, a pulpit of high cheeks bones— in sharp relief to sunken skin-scape sallow and paper thin— a preacher on the harrows of hunger. Vulture keeps a still, silent vigil, a patient witness to your starvation, comrade and adversary in a fight for your last breath and beat. Your loyal companion, a symbol of death where drones rain with flames on tents of refugees and sky splitting missiles make shrapnel of the sun, where dragon fire artillery shoots the moon and shreds stars till they fate-fall like the last nightjars from nocturne skies. Dear child of war, alone with nothing in your belly but a stone, rib bones a famine cage, thoracic fingers squeeze your soul. Your heart a hostage, flutters like a lost moth against your sternum. I long to hold you and feed you honey made from a million wild flowers uncrushed beneath metal plates of tank treads. I yearn to bathe you of collapsed concrete dust cleanse you of your mother’s blood, her rattle-boned, battle-owned, maternal body wrapped over yours as they fed her Kalashnikov lead. My faraway ache for your plight pales against your tiny body’s black-rose-throes, a pawn to thorns of soldiers grown on rocket-torn-boot-worn streets. War-zone fig trees bear no fruit, hibiscus buds die as hornets knit nests into shrubs, tomorrow but a diseased wheat field laid to waste. Dear child of war, deliverance will come when pall-bearer winds carry your cries elsewhere…

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