Poetry · Loss
The Landscape of My Heart
Dear Calista
To see my heart
is to see a natural disaster,
houses destroyed,
bodies lay upon the cold concrete.
The Sun is completely defeated
and darkness reigns supreme.
Where is the warmth?
Where is the light?
When will fortune bud anew
and the tree that is my suffering
bear its fruit?
The rain keeps pouring
and the lighting ever striking,
Yet man hopes for the day
that the Sun's rays
will grace their face once again.
Suffering · Hope · Desolation
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