Comes in search of an
Address in a war torn
City.
All the Houses grazed
To dust.. Still able
To find that bombed
House..
Who's the refugee here?
The bodies?
The postman?
The letter? The sender?
Or the flower that's
Trying to grow battling
The hopeless silence
In the rubble?
He keeps the letter
Under the shadow of
The flower and
Returns.
What better way to
Take cognizance of
A life than delivering
A letter?
To seek hope when
There's none.
Even if it's ridiculously
Symbolic..
That act outweighs
Hope itself. Life itself.
The war itself.