Ashes of War
All around
bombs were falling,
bullets pouring down
like hard rain.
To save myself
I wrapped my arms
around dark trunk
of a tree.
From somewhere
a missile
clothed in fire
came rushing down
and struck the ground
beside us.
After a while—
when my senses returned—
tree had turned
into a charred skeleton,
and in my body
metal shards
were spitting blood.
In that moment
one dry leaf
from tree
began to touch
my wounds gently.
It whispered prayer—
may these wounds
dry soon.
And my wounds, too,
offered prayer for leaves —
may you too
turn green again.
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