POETRY – REFLECTION

---

When the war moved in, not the day it started, but the day it became real.
There are no bullets, no sound to remind you that you’re not home.
It’s the silence that creeps into your pores; now you know what unsettling means.
You taste the blood of the unhealed wounds, neath the scars you cleverly hide.

Sunlight radiates against your skin. You’re hot to the touch, drenched with sweat.
Yet, you stumble as you try to find your way through the darkness.
Searching for that light of hope, that fairytale, that legend we were taught to believe.
Something to cling to as we crash against the waves of uncertainty beating us into submission.

Suddenly, in the distance, we see it …

The Lighthouse of Hope

---

Authors note:

This piece was partially inspired by the opening line of Stacey C. Johnson’s piece called shelled.