To the Unknown

I am your poverty, I take children from mother.
I am death of your crops, I am your hunger.

I saw many wars and they were all the same.
I saw pieces of cloth drooping with blood and fame.
I am your cloudy day with rain like annoying pain.
I am your bullet, your X-ray that scans your brain.
I am prose of life, I'm common reality,that you almost escaped.
I'm a gloomy face of a father whose child has just been raped.
I am illness of grandpa, I'm shaking his hands.
I am your nerves; I am your grief which never ends.
I am your tears and salty blood wound,
I am your torture and... humiliation.
I saw hundreds of wars and they were all the same:
Blood spilt but no fame.
Only books of eternity.But nobody reads.
Only sobbing and short breathing, and swallowed leads.
I saw your death and your end, you will be blessed.
And I saw your soul, she even confessed.
And I met your eyes and in them
I saw that you saw what I saw...


Copyright ©2007 Olga Ulyankina