Iridescent Anticipation By Rania M M Watts


The elements of war,
strife of one
who has suffered
at the hands
of ensconced
destruction.

Tragedy leads
to crimson hues,
there is no human
dignity - it’s released
into a Sarlacc Pit
of injustice,
lack lustre demise,
and sardonic
anguish. 

How do you
think you would
feel in the underbelly
of a metallic screeched
scream?

Eyes close
and squint, while

   Dorothy repeats:
        “there’s no place
 like home.”

Sounds so cliché
to believe hope
exists for anyone
 — this is not a simple
innocuous
concept. 

Bombs going off
over head on a long drive
through Syria to escape civil war.

I don’t understand!
I don’t understand!
I don’t understand!

Why?

Why is annihilation necessary?

There exists illumination
etched in the visibility of air
and auditory of thought.

A guided hand scribes
on word “hope.”

This piece was inspired by Unbroken, by Kevin Zoldan & Bax. 

Comments

Social Media