Touch

You left without a promise
Without a word of grace.
You left without an echo
Of a love lost in haze.

I held up your pictures
With a desire world apart.
With the music in my ears
I stumbled back to the start.

The music of the first kiss
And the hug of the dawn.
The miles in one hand touch
And the brace of your arm.

The harmony of our spirits,
The symphony in our fingers,
Miming words on our lips
Writing stanzas all new,
As the drops from a melody
Perch on my eyes of dew.
The drum beats of the clasp of hand,
Take me to the highest note,
Make me smell of you.

And I still smell you
Through the black holes
Of years lost in time.
I hear your voice through wires
But forget the way we rhyme.

And then in scorching summer
You grace me with your rain.
You kneel down at my doorstep
And melt away my pain.
I throw myself in your arms
I forget to remember
I’d forgotten how you feel to me.
Then the whole world comes tumbling
In my bosom, in a spree.

My finger tips,
The edge of my forehead,
And the skin under my neck
Witness the magic again.
And a moment before I glide in mirth
You wither away.
You’re gone again but this time
You leave your touch behind.

I die

I die,
I die to hold you,
I die to say a few meaningful words.
I live,
I live to soak you,
I live to make a meaningful sentence.

A border-village

A villager ran miles
From the shelling
In a border-village up north.
It happened for years
And then he sent off
His family, and he stayed
To look after the farm.
Then one day
There was no where to flee
He quietly lay down in dust
And look who watched him die,
A man from the army.

Others displaced
Found new shelter, made a new living.
Living to go back to the home
On which the morning sun once shone.
Now spiders dwell amongst the ruins
And land mines decorate the backyard.
Hope still leads them on;
Hope to be buried
In the place they were born.

Thousands of camps
Of people in the no man’s land,
No one to lend a hand,
No one to share the burdens
Of an abandoned home,
An abandoned village,
An abandoned life;
Retiring to destiny.
With neighbours burning down to death,
And fathers lying in a pool of blood
Still fresh in the memories
Drowned in the same sand,
Their eyes look to the sky
And wonder why we fight for land.