Your wounded body
Fits the old mattress.
Your death corrupts time.
Still is the hut, while
Fighters stifle cries.
In the forest, war
Goes on, and the sun
Dries the wet puddles.
Paradise awaits you
Now. The peace
You died for remains
A hopeful promise.
Now we both return
But part ways. I go back
To the forest. You, to Him.
Ode to a Martyr
O
