Following the West Wind

The west wind howls in the woods, uprooting plants, tossing their nuts, and bending powerful trees. The branches nod to the teasing wind as nesting songbirds hold tight until the wind sails away.

The west wind now pauses by the pink splendor of the woods. Mesmerized, it calms into a breeze and crawls over each stem.

As the pink flowers dance in delight, the breeze finds its way to a corner, resting on an undiscovered flower. The breeze melts into the flower, enchanted by its texture and fragrance.

west wind halts

to trace each pattern

in a pecan leaf

New Life

I tried to move my ravaged limbs

when I heard arms and legs

thrashing around

in the next ward.


I rasped, trying to breathe

as incoherent screams

from the neighborhood

gave voice to my pain.


Silence found me, at last,

and I was wrapped, but

my soul wandered,

half-desolate and half-ecstatic.


Then I opened

my new eyes

to see a vague form

as motherly cooing

caressed my ears.

A Promise of Life

I walk close to the tangled barks

and buzzing noise

where creatures of the dark

watch me unseen.

Fear battling with persistence,

I tread into the darkness.

Branches block my vision

and stones prick my feet.

I stumble,

but walk on

when a gust of breeze

sweeps over me.

I look up to see a paradise

of flowers. The buzzing noises are

that of Red Admirals,

hovering around undiscovered flowers.

The tangled barks spread to huge branches

that offer shelter to millions

of tiny creatures, crawling and flying.

Did I fear the darkness?

Doesn’t the dark ultimately

make way for light?

The light of never-ending life,

promise and vigor.

White Leaves

All the trees in my country

have white barks that

give birth to white leaves.

Some stems have no offspring

while others have mutilated leaves. 

I have a disfigured face and my

grown friend needs help dressing up. 

All of us fear toy guns, water guns 

and any signs of violence.

Yet I have seen videos

of your world 1000 years ago.

A beautiful world with green leaves

and healthy children.

I shudder at the anger and violence in your eyes. 

We are now reaping your thirst for blood 

and your experiment with nuclear war.

See for yourself. 

All the trees in my country

have lifeless white barks

that mourn

the loss of humanity.

Path to Peace

The soldier saw

reddish-orange blood pouring out

of his enemy’s chest

as he thrust his glossy sword

deep inside.

Reddish-orange, the color of the setting sun,

he thought, pointless.

For the first time, he looked into his

enemy’s face. Was he 17 or 18?

His hands numbed and bones quivered as he

imagined his youngest brother

soaked in reddish-orange blood.

Another enemy lay beside the young one,

like crushed leaves,

his dark crimson blood reminiscent

of the sky before a storm.

What is the color of my blood?

he wondered. What did he fight for?

Expansion? Race? Religion?

A vulture sat in the stench of blood,

her mouth purplish-red,

jaw dripping,

observing and waiting.

Suddenly, scared of all the red around him,

the soldier dragged himself out

of the battlefield.

His helmet and sword slipped away

in search of a better warrior.

His legs strolled where his heart led and

he stopped in front of a monastery.

He knelt with force

as the monastery bells rang,

his knees brushing

the hard rock below.

He found that his blood

was reddish-yellow

like a scattered autumn leaf.

He lifted his eyes

as the sun broke through the trees

illuminating his path to peace.