Today in Bosnia a man, a prisoner of war, was made to kneel and castrate his friend with his teeth.
in a field a horse rubbed the neck of another, in a kitchen ants wrestled with a breadcrumb and in the trees God still sang through the throats of birds.
The gift of walking, the gift of sleep, the gift of hope, the gift of mercy, take them away with rape truncheon electrode bullet.
Don't paint a flower, paint a fist. Don't paint a sky, paint a scream. Don't paint a bird, paint a man starved, beaten, dead in the mud.
Today in Bosnia a man, a prisoner of war, was made to kneel down and castrate his friend with his teeth.
A dog barks, a snail continues, our consciences flap their polluted wings. climbing the ladder, this life of broken rungs, but climbing still, to tell us that dreams do not have an easy price or an ending.
