Whispering Sparrows

The native walls
were hounding me-

out of game.
I was playing chess with god.

Was stoned to death.
A small boy’s arm

was crushed.
He stole a bread.

What was the truism
of unheard voices?

Groping in green darkness
I was watching

the lethal plunge of man.

Tags: | Category: Life Poems

Leave a comment