War in Mind

War, in any form, doesn’t sit comfortably with me. This poem reflects those feelings.

Crack the gun and
flick the knife,
a distant memory,
my wife –
I cling to her
in winter chill
my breath a
photographic still.

Snatch the child,
infect his mind,
a rancid beast
in you I find –
I scream my way
through shattered places
my steps the
heart of empty faces.

Hungry world meets
homeless nations,
a jigsaw of
the constellations –
ripped and broken,
slashed or shredded,
the deepened thorn
is now embedded.

© Liz MacKenzie


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