Hailstorm.
A Poem.
Mar 7, 2022
Hailstorm.
She never wished war.
She had heard it all before.
Guns blaze: she ducks, and she curls in a ball.
This is exactly what she warns, as she falls.
She falls.
Night calls.
Dreams don’t come often —
My ideas on the complexities of our human mind’s with an appreciation for the “darker” realities— Whilst insisting, Hope, remains, unwavering, in all of us!.