by Alyssa Souza

As a child, I was sworn a promise.
My ouroboros:
It’s August, and
The twin towers have not yet fallen.
St. George stands tall amidst the wheat
And beckons to my Father.

I know nothing yet—
Of the ride on the dragon’s back
Through the desert’s shapely body,
Tugging this way—left …
Drifting over the ancient writing,
Announced from the minarets,
Their lungs of beautiful architecture,
Succumbing down
To the pores of stone
Tumbling,
Piercing
The innocent flesh
Captured in pedestrian photographs
And roadside bombs.

Our eyes can never meet again.
For the dragon’s price raises—
Our home deigns to sit silent
For the conflict costs us
Everything a child could ever give:
My beginning
and my end.

–

–

–

---

Alyssa Souza is a wife and writer, an illustrator and a mother. A sister, friend, and daughter. She writes best with a dog curled up by her feet. Her work has appeared in Ekstasis Magazine, and is forthcoming in the Closed Eye Open.

–

–

–