War Zone Poem by Kim Aouad
War Zone
Life is a war; we are its soldiers. We conquer hearts that are homes to many, and often destroy them. We act wounded, and wait for someone to pick us up and tell us everything is going to be okay. In the war of life, some soldiers die, and others survive, but most of them carry emotional and physical wounds as if they were gifts from souvenir shops. The Wounds last. And memory of war is no evanescent flame, rather an eternal one that haunts every one of its survivors till the day Death does them justice.
a thoughtful, clever write - as the others you've posted. You live in city*, in a country, where ''emotional and physical wounds'' are real facts.. You speak of real life.. Thank you, Kim. Keep on posting! * Beirut / Libanon, we can read. Right?
Thank you once more for all your comments; they're well appreciated. And yeah Beirut, Lebanon
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/18/2024 6:28:38 PM # 1.0.0.1119
Love unites us! But, war destroys everything. Nice piece of work.