Verse

I would say hell

for those who whisper,

“Love without expectation,”

as if they have found a fire

I look at footsteps

like they’re trying to tell me something.

Even when they mean nothing,

I listen.

I may have months to live

She sighed and looked at the bulb

The specks were still there

As they counted the

there was this woman

shawl around her neck

sitting just right there

front-right from me

She saw him, always,

outside the ward,

standing still

a figure like time,

People of uncertainty,

taught to follow

a fool clutching a book,

or a book dragged behind a nation.

There was one without a flag

walked barefoot,

feeling the tremble in the earth

long before the storm came.

They ask me what I believe,

and I tell them, I don’t know.

But inside, I wonder

is there a storyteller?

I came back home after months of study

Hoping to find some peace and rest

But my room was cold and void of life

As if it had been long left