Pristine Hospital moans
with shapnel legs
broken branches bearing no cross,
the dispossessed dream
of devastation while
weary nurses weep
giving birth to the days end
fatigue feeding the acceptence
that sobbing shadows whisper,
there is no relief.

only the dead know peace,
exhume their pale corpses
breathe life back into them
listen.

as decayed lips speak
through mouths filled with dirt
only then
the finger bones
of my brother will grasp
the black wind and shake the dove
from the shoulders of the sky,
only then will
the dead bring peace,
only the dead know peace