send me pictures of the plants you are growing
since the spring when the virus was growing, too
so that i can see the earth thriving and keep
an image of beauty amidst bombs blasting the soil
of little known lands. send me poetry
in the form of birds still singing elsewhere
and the color of the sky undisturbed by smoke
from flying fires that target people in their own homes
so that i may keep an image of people living
without the fear of death.
send me songs with words that people speak
when they feel safe, silly words about losing love
or heartbreak or betrayal and finding love
again, so that i may be sure that words still have
meaning when uttered, at least for those living without war.
send me the sound of your heart beating
on a usual day after the sun rises or after
you go for a walk, after brushing your teeth,
or pick up your children from school. sounds
of people laughing, or chatting, or just
sitting in silence, while the cars hum by
from a nearby street. i want to soothe
the noise of blood flushing my ears each time
a new wave of panic rises from injured soil.
send me the smell of dirt, newly dug and the
feel of worms on your bare fingers
i want to know something stays alive
in some chunk of earth somewhere else.
send me the dreams you dream
when you go to sleep without preparing
a bag with a passport, nonperishable food,
clothes and warm socks, a blanket, a flashlight
in case you are shocked out of sleep at night
by air raid sirens, followed by the sounds
of blasts. lend me your dreams for a lifetime
so that i may keep the image of peace in mind
at least for another day.
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