Today, missiles and bombs fall
before my closed
eyes, exploding into stories of
politics and economics,
corruption and destruction, and
the ringing in my ears
doesn't go away
after I open my eyes
to the morning sun.
I sit on the floor;
my face soaking up the bright
blue light and I think about
beauty because
why not.
Today, as my sweat drips
down my rough, porous nose,
and touching my
chapped lips,
it tastes like surrender; like,
relinquishing myself
to the "okayness" of life,
and remembering
that it is.
Sep 8, 2010
Sep 8, 2010 at 9:14 PM UTC
Today, missiles and bombs fall
before my closed
eyes, exploding into stories of
politics and economics,
corruption and destruction, and
the ringing in my ears
doesn't go away
after I open my eyes
to the morning sun.
I sit on the floor;
my face soaking up the bright
blue light and I think about
beauty because
why not.
Today, as my sweat drips
down my rough, porous nose,
and touching my
chapped lips,
it tastes like surrender; like,
relinquishing myself
to the "okayness" of life,
and remembering
that it is.
I don't know how I got myself into past-tense. I like present-tense much better.
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