days of futility – torn between
these empty lands of fortified migration.
Gravestones on mass, innocence fallen
cut deep amid the whining grass.
Intense of red
the flowers of fury, placid folded.
Heads frayed, touch the ground
between the rows of sleeping.
Killing time, eyes closed
bare footed, waiting for their
mother, brother sister – lover!
Dust of battles long time wrestled.
Therefore, shall the young ones remain
in all but their name…?