poetry form week 31, hyde park poetry 100, 101, short story slam week 139

http://promisingpoetsparkinglot.blogspot.com/2020/03/hyde-park-poetry-week-101.html

   

Autoplay next video
My child wafts peace.
When I lean over him,
It is not just the smell of soap.

All the people were children wafting peace.
(And in the whole land, not even one
Millstone remained that still turned).

Oh, the land torn like clothes
That can't be mended.
Hard, lonely fathers even in the cave of the Makhpela*
Childless silence.

My child wafts peace.
His mother's womb promised him
What God cannot
Promise us.


I is for   Internet