stations of the crossed, by Kevin Reid

I am not a silent poet

… condemned to death

he won’t leave
the country is sick
but it’s home

… carries his cross

his want to stay
drags his need to escape
it’s difficult to hide

… falls for the first time

bombs don’t discern
he prays while he waits

… meets his mother 

weak they weep into each other
the first time since the invasion

 … helps him carry the cross

an orphaned friend
i’m coming with you

… wipes his face  

he knew those eyes
they saved him from sniper fire
wiped his blood with her hijab

… falls the second time 

prays while he’s down
water is scarce

… meets the women

mothers of lost children
wives of dead men
sisters of fighting brothers join us

… falls the third time 

into killing hands
still he prays


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