Sacrifice For Hope

Everywhere here is a war zone; 

no happy place or a place to giggle 

and laugh. Our chuckles here 

sound like the cry of a mother hen

but no matter how heavy this rain pours, 

my little plant refuses to grow.

So I sit with it, and sing songs  

full of praise; tells it what 

the future might look like for us 

if only it could sprout and bloom.

Several days passed; Nights whiled away,

I lost my way home 

and my home no longer picks up my scent.

Maybe tomorrow when we meet, we will exchange greetings

with riots of guns. Who can tell? 

So I hope you receive me, 

because the only remains of this body 

feel at peace here.

-Àkànó A'ishat