Faces

Faces at the glassless windows.

Eyes drawn tight.

Look.

Look at what happened.

To us.

When we were strong.

Yet we lost.

We were family.

Families.

In a wooden village.

Locked tight in belief.

We grew food to sell.

So we had a chance at life.

And we lost.

We lost hope.

We lost pride.

We lost it all.

Here.

In this falling down place.

All-but forgotten.

Chalk on the walls:

Boys’ school, girls’ school.

Little store rooms.

Big rooms for parents.

Little ones for children.

They slept on the floor.

Close to the earth.

The providing earth.

The walls are falling;

brown scrim floats in the wind.

It was our home.

When we were strong.

Now, our tears dried on our faces;

we are the hollow eyes of our past

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