“I think I might just
Be in love with this sunshine.
Come break the earth with me
Sink your roots and be a tree.”

“I think I might just-“

Sign up for the thrill, you said.

Back when young hands would rest
On strong shoulders.

Those withered hands of mine
Now drawn to channel the furrows of my forehead.
An attempt to plough over the years of conflict,
But nothing will erase.

“Be in love with this sunshine.”

For it won’t last, you said.

Back then when I joined as a brother
In all but blood.

I didn’t heed your warnings then,
I guess I foolishly supposed that the sun would always shine for us.
The sun may still play upon the scarred recesses of my skin,

But my eyes see nothing now.

“Come break the earth with me,”

The ground is hard and we dig best together, you said.

Back then when trenches were still reminiscent of childhood hideouts
and games of glorious battle.

But we knew nothing of war,
and our minds grew like a tiny maze
with many dead ends packed in there.
We paid dearly for our ignorance.

“Sink your roots and be a tree.”

Then I’ll do the same, you said.

Back then when you would laugh in abstract thought while I smiled
With my hand around your shoulder and yours around mine.


The snipers got you in the end.


I feel relief now, that you never lost your innocence,
that you didn’t live to see how much of myself I lost
When you passed.

In the presence of the sun I raked the earth
With trembling hands beneath a tree
Pondering upon how ancient your face seemed all of a sudden

Set starkly against the ****** soil of your makeshift grave.



And I remembered
When young hands upon shoulders were still strong,



Now I reach for that same grime-encrusted hand upon my shoulder

But it’s no longer there

And neither are you.



*“I think I might just
Be in love with this sunshine.
Come break the earth with me
Sink your roots and be a tree.”