Astute War

By Shano Mohammed

Yesterday my town fell ill at dead of a sunless dawn from its eyes, a fire blazed dazzlingly everyone rode

From a Phoenix bird to ants’ swarms.

At the feet of astute war, brought to their knees, until they grew frail, mothers in faint voices wept from what they have bled, for what they have borne. on sidewalks and under tents, children were born others were abandoned little girls were placed, Under barren trees and on hills, for fate to step in. grandmothers went underworld not even a slight handwave for a goodbye to hold on Solemn kisses were left On forehead of youth years Spring dreams by tombstones at rest one prayer mat centered muezzin and saint Whose minaret died

For the sake of marine corps I asked my mother who are the new arrivals? shouldn’t we serve visitors tea? what differs them from the usual? little did I know! our tea and land fell in their hands and we no longer owned our house little did I know she was making Sophie’s choice to remain and have faith or flee and save us both! At frontline rebel forces formed

Fathers bravely relented Wrestling foreign forces alone there was not much of a choice food, schoolbooks, legal papers

In Nana’s colorful hand-sewed suitcase from cradle to coffin one purpose and only one

From remnants in unified rage to rise above mines and guns one step after another fleeing death on feet until the sky appears overhead towards foreign fields able to bear Wounded identities and weeping hearts beyond the borders of the homeland where our humanity was crossed out