Held in my hands
safe from the world
looks at the flags furled
on ships passing by to go off to war.
They want to take you
with them; they might
as well take my heart
with them.
To fight a war we’re
Not even sure is
about anymore, but I
would fight to keep
you alive.
Tramp the deserts in
your worm rubber boots,
look for the meager truths
held in their hands.
Who would understand?
Languages spoken by
different tongues
breath held in dead lungs
They would speak of
peace, love and mercy
But those who are too
blind to see would
take those words against
them and make sure
their last.
A last breath, another
death
they would never end.
We ask for it to
STOP, but the pop of
guns go off and starts
it all over again.
My eyes long to see you
and search the horizon
for a sign, but spoken
was a line
“He has come back, but
he is in a better place
now.”
What would be better than
my arms? They would hold
you close and safe and
take you into a world
soft, bright and peaceful.
They then told me you were
already in a place like that
and that the only part
of you that would stay
with me was to be
trapped in a box put
in the ground.
I fall to the ground,
tears fall from my eyes
and my cries are
thrown to silent ears.
In your dead hands
you still hold my heart
and I have nothing to hold.
I am told to move on, but
how can I when you have
my heart held in your hands forever?