Mostar

From foggy valley to bright highlands,
babbling shallow river to one deep and fast,
meeting, crossing, advancing
By bridges upon bridges upon bridges.
Bodies of water made liminal,
no one's land (no land at all, in truth).
This is the domain of swifts and ducks,
unknowing and unfeeling of the worlds
people make on either bank of their river.

And when the bridges come crashing down,
or provide target practice for snipers,
they become wild things of rock, again,
become strange formations to be navigated,
or nested upon, or yearned for, or ignored,
by bird, fish,butterfly, or person
(humans another animal in the landscape).
That's what war reminds us, that we are
all just scuttling creatures, predators and prey.Baca lagi