August 11, 2012

• 27

  The sun needs no coaxing to warm your hard shoulders.

  The air needs no persuasion to open your roads.

  I remember touching your calluses and my hand turns to sand that pours through your fingers.

  Be free, and cruise through this world I'm proud to share with you.

  And I pray this world will shelter your purity, and allow you to coast

  through terrified barks of dogs mixed into the constant punctures of machine guns.

  I pray the smell of your brother's rotting flesh will not seep into your memory.

  I pray the splatter of your brother's blood does not stain the blue and speckled orange of your eyes.

  I pray and I cry for your beauty, simultaneously claimed by our war machine and by the calling of the horizon.

  • 4:34 pm
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