I am a child born amidst fire;
shattering echoes that send sharp sensations
through my ears, and the blankness of what’s happening,
mostly, marks my identity.
My eyes, accustomed to fire and smoke,
my ears, I mentioned earlier,
my mouth, slightly open, I fail to contain
all my illusions, deceptions ---let my mouth
breathe it out little by little
as I feel a bit like nausea for being
filled with so many pointless trickeries.
Before I eat, customarily, I look out, up, sideways,
then I think, maybe I will finish my food.
Sometimes I wish if I could just see
those familiar faces that had fled from here,
I know not to where, they say they drowned,
caught up in firings, are starving somewhere;
I miss my little brother, even though I am spared
from that constant worrying over him, like my parents---
but they still have to worry, because I am alive!