Broken

broken, broken world
or is it me
seeing cracks on still water
seeing wounds instead of flowers
seeing blood where sunset
should drip behind the ears of trees:
BROKEN WORLD
we break more
when we can be silent
when we don’t let ourselves see
when we don’t break with your breaking
when you don’t let your brokenness
break deep inside us –
how can we mourn all the dead
one, just one, takes up all our grief
how can we write thousands of elegies
one, just one, is all we can read –
or is it me
wanting sky after sky to splinter
wanting night after night to never end
wanting the light to never
stop shuddering
because we need a sign
because we need a miracle
because we need to know that you know;
broken, broken world
or is it me
asking for a full moon everyday
asking for the jasmine wind, for the clock, to stay
asking in sentences without any words:
will we heal in shards and slivers and dust
will we ever be whole again
will you, will you ever be whole again

broken, broken world
or is it me
unbroken,
broken, again

#Poetry

This poem is from 11th December 2023. During another war - that hasn’t ended yet.