Fitna

Lines drew up in sand
and bled with fire,
Scattered steel that ran

for the depths of sea,
Marked with scars
passed father to son,

Memories of wounds
opening and closing,
Never leaving from the

immense face of time
yet disappearing into
desert’s great cracks.

Opening and closing
with the caravan winds,
Desert’s great cracks;

Lines drew up in sands.

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