Among those odes
And the violets which were trampled
During bombardment,
I need an ode
To mount a boat
And sail from the bombed town
To the river shore
And to carry the refugees wrapped in white bed-sheets
Into the house.
In the eternal sunset
The dead violets
Shined
On our palms.
The folk had gone to the other side of the river,
And the farms were watching us
How
We were out of business during war days.
A sketch of our bodies
Was printed on the wall
And it did not take long
For them to disappear
Under the shadow of falling bombs.
I was sitting
When the patient and humble bomb
Stepped into the cafe from the window.