Burning the past

Burning the past,
the flames eat away
the memories;
the faces,
the way we were
burned ashes
a sacrifice for sanity.
A woman speaks loud
Hungarian
at the train station.
Scars have formed
a cool breeze caresses
their pattern,
rivers,
borders between lands,
languages,
perhaps it is Finnish?

About seagullsea

a seagull flying over the great ocean of life observing.
This entry was posted in a stranger in paradise, adaptation, planetary life, poetry, poetry in motion, survival, understanding ourselves. Bookmark the permalink.

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