I heard you speaking,
Simply, less ambiguous words
And with an African old man wisdom
Twist of shellfire, sniper’s sight
And I feared, and wanted more
Then I wept
I’d wept before you spoke,
Didn’t hear a word you said
Tears of myself and life’s unforthcoming
But now dear friend of sinners!
How can this happen to a girl?
It happens yes through the choices we make
The gentlest of souls, it seems
Can be brutal to what is otherwise young, innocent and free.
And finer, purer things of flesh and blood succumb to powder blast and fractured steel
I ask myself now, how can it be
You slow, after rains, clear voice
My tearful pettiness
Blended in some grand celestial economy
Where soggy and rust aggravate the killer’s knack
Where triumph becomes, not steel, but a soft heart?
Art by Anna Parini