Bismillah..
a tractor pulled through and swept the debris away
what's left is its own track lines
patterned against the puffy dried soil
a hand patted the earth
small as a child's
indeed a child, she is, yet her eyes speak otherwise
physically forced away from home
now returning, all that's left are these dust
reality lost, memories remains
a loud snap shattered the brief moment of silence
a pair of boots led to a pair of sympathetic eyes and forced smile
internal war waging, beaten by a momentary shutter
acceptance
eyes now opened, the hand beckoned
"Let's go home."
"Where's home, 'yah?"
"here."
"It's still here, anakku."
- - -
"...to my brothers and sisters around the world
who are rebuilding their lives
the past exist, no matter how they're wiped clean
the land remembers of their origin
it's what kind of future are being rebuilt from it."
"Indeed He grows from a black burnt soil,
from a destitute land
for such things are easy for Him.
Do they not reflect on the state of hearts?
(from asleep/ dead hearts to full awareness)"
- - -
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