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any picture comes to my mind, i try to give it a body of words, love to sit on other blooms, for honey, color, fragrance........
Saturday, 11 July 2015
Last Song of the Dead
The guillotine voice whispers
An eye for an eye
We lost our land and eyes
Eons ago
We subsisted on black milk
Before decapitation
We cling
To the little root of a dream
Of a Child of Sight
To open all eye
Before this hour
Shall cease to be
I have used Paul Celan’s poems, Fugue of Death; Ice, Eden and O LittleRoot of a Dream as my inspiration. This is for the hapless victims who lost
their lives at the hands of ISIS fanatics
Written for Grace’s hosting Sunday’s Mini-Challenge: Paul Celan @ RealToads
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