By Hannah Robinson-Wright

Today we make the bed we laid in yesterday.

We wash the soiled sheets

And scrape crust from eyes that have swollen

Through deep, oblivious sleep. 

We rise to gunshots in our ears.

There are scars on our hearts and 

Blood-tinged saliva fills our mouths. 

We thank the Lord for the barrier of sea that protects us. 

We quiver at the thought of the sky that surrounds us. 

We talk of radius and hotspots. 

We turn and face the other way

And try to find the beauty of Spring.