i won't write poems any more.
haven't i written enough?
i have written until my fingers are deformed
until my eyes are bleary
until my heart aches
until my friends turn grey
until my loved ones leave
and still my heart is muddled
people are still cruel
the air is still polluted
the soil is still cancerous
leaders still play politics
my poetry cant cure anything
it can only shrink
and wither
only an undying heart
awaits the rebirth of poetry
awaits a day to break
when we shall open the sky
and see unbroken blue

see love's banner waving