Native Land
Relentless atrocities on native land harden the spirit, burning away empathy until…
Read more →Your gentle gaze, like autumn leaves, heals war's earth, a quiet rescue from loud history.
No more telltale signs of the war’s touch
on these forests of October,
the gouged earth manicured into gardens.
I’m thinking the rescue of your hands,
the brown leaf of your eyes
covering the wounded ground.
Elsewhere, abandoning bereft lovers
heroes are marching off
to history’s drumbeats.