Early morning truth reflects itself perfectly, without fear of being seen.
It is only a lie that fears its own reflection.
“Beyond what is seen, lie shadows by which all things operate.” -beth
A body of cloth,
heads hollow, designed to be fitted over and over, manipulated by the hand.
They are all an extension of the another.
They follow what has already begun.
They enforce what the other has made possible.
They are the puppets to another’s desire,
They are the story to an already written plot.
Puppets pulled by different strings.
The same cancer, just a different strain.
“Invaders hang from the sky above, chasing away my sun, mornings and child. From lead skies I come, wrapped in the arms of my enemy.” -beth
I had the opportunity to speak with a refugee,
she had come from lead skies,
her land torn from war, and an uprising of terrorist.
Writing this prose had taken me some time. Insights to war that have changed me and caused me to question my own understandings of war and wars complexities. My views on war have been pale and short sighted until I met her. She said this to me and I’ll never forget it, stills rings through me. “I have come to be wrapped in the arms of my hidden enemy but of this I dare not speak.”
For those interested the link below will bring you to the prose. For some this maybe triggering.
I hope that I have given her words life and her voice a platform.
Thank you to all who read this.