What is it with war that turns people into poets?
A shield, a refuge of words, weaponry of the verb
They carry us through the darkest shameful moments
And we choose to build poems
----- Like air, or water or love
They too purify us
I bath in the sea when the sun rises
Your hands touched mine / for the first time
And I tried a smile mirrored in your eyes / for the first time
You too, like air, water, or love, purify me
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