The morning is mine
when people are asleep
Sun and I talk
Birds say their greetings
when passing by
I wash oils off my face
scrub the night off my teeth
I open the windows
—the war rages on

I boil milk and blend in
some coffee
she runs down my throat
burning and waking all
of my snoring folks
Sloshing, she plays in
my arid stomach
—the war rages on

I put on some music
Arabic flutes and gentle drums
and open my books
I read a passage,
then read again
—the war rages on

I reread the passage
What are they saying, I
write it down,
I rewrite, then cut
—the war rages on

—the war rages on
I could scream or tear
apart this book, break this
cup where an abyss now sleeps
jump off, I could.
oh, dear vultures, I could run
away, away, away, and
wither on the way. Oh wither!
but I hide under sheets
and wait for sleep to come

Mercifully, she does.
she always does and I
will wake up and gulp some coffee
and reopen the book
reread the passage, reread
rewrite, rewrite, cut
—and the war will rage on.

And when my guardians failed to protect me,
I left myself
On the mercy of these vultures,
I can feel them,
Tangling their beaks
In my warm flesh,
Piercing it,
Feasting on it,
I hear my blood spill
Drop after drop
Sanctifying every grain of Earth,
I can smell,
The sweet metallic smell,
Blending in the air
I hear *****
***** of their wings
Drenched in my blood,
I watch blood dripping from their beaks,
I can see the fibres of my blood
Stuck inside those nefarious nails,
As they tear my carcass
I watch my guardians
The silent spectators
Oh I Want them to make it stop,
To step forward,
Oh I do want them to...........

I  see them picking off petal by petal
Making sure their prey is fully exposed
ripping flowers from their roots.
Tell the vultures I will never dine with them
Nor will I participate in their destruction of beauty.