In War

O Earth, 
today, standing on your bones 
I will study my fears. 

I am talking to myself 
to say everything, which I don't 
mean, presiding over the violence. 

Bullet-ridden I 
will return your sorrow 
to sky, hailing the stars. 

From grief to grief 
I walk pigeon-toed, 
to explore the mines of seed thoughts. 

In summer, you 
offer the naked hands to me 
to write the poem of the day.