Heavy morning
after a night filled with images of war,
a vague outline of dreams
that slowly sinks into sub consciousness
and are now reefs in the shallow sea of sleepless nights.
I see a black clad woman,
crying showing me a picture of her only son.
“Have you seen him, he’s a good boy?”
She refuses water
has taken her shoes off walks barefoot on unforgiving ground
to better feel her son’s pain
and keeps on walking to where land meets the sky.