Poem

Newest flowers at the open window,

strange sky over there,

over land.

War is coming,

I can hear it,

landing,

running,

coming here.

Someone has called her.

This is a poem I has already written. Why I choose this words? I hate wars (yeah, I like war films :S, it is strange), but I hate real wars. The feelings a person has to bear when a trouble is going on. A politc trouble, a religion trouble, a ethnic trouble.

I hate wars, I think this poem is like a snake crawling through a meadow, slowly, creeaping, to its dam. I think that war can be smelled when it hurts, when it is in the air, that we suffer physically the war. I wanted to express that with this poem, the arrival of war sensed without seeing it. The feeling of helplessness, knowing that  you will inevitably suffer in your flesh something you are waiting for.

When war comes is like someone has called her, and it really is. A war can be really unexpected? That's a good question to think.