Image Credit: Zvaella


On this day my feet were stripped…


Bare, paper-thin –
autumn leaves
in fall.

They stole the wind
and winter settles still
burying them
and their children to come.

Tell me:

“Who will wake within my soul
the life that I use to know
Stolen from the generations
Raising up newer nations?”



 For Photo Challenge #61: Red.  When I first saw this photo it reminded me of the scene of the little girl in the red dress from ‘Schindler’s List’.  This made me think of the painful history of my own people, particularly the destruction of Smyrna and the Pontian Genocide.  My thoughts end with the indigenous people of my land, Australia, who are still struggling… 

I couldn’t find an ending for the poem.  I’m not happy with the way it ends, as if it is in mid-sentence; but in a way that’s exactly where we are.



2 thoughts on “Mid-Sentence

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