There Were Windy Streets

for the children murdered with chemical weapons in Syria


and cold suns on my skin,
his wounds still shiver inside me,
and days that came from death
to cast his face in every hour,
a soldier lost in the ice of his Gulag,
 
who forgot the why and where
of survival. Eyes seek the slipstream
of trains rumbling to the void.
Birds bequeath their footprints
on his snowy back.
 
My eyes have not seen him,
the memory of streets that come
from night and run parallel to death.
I, the exhausted soldier,
the residue of undefeated battles.
 
 
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About Sergio Ortiz


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Sergio A. Ortiz is a two time Pushcart nominee, a four time Best of the Web nominee, and a 2016 Best of the Net nominee. His poems have been published in hundreds Journals and Anthologies. He is currently working on his first full length collection of poems, Elephant Graveyard.
2 comments
Discussion
  1 week ago
Thank you Frank!
  1 week ago
Yep new kind of measure, Projectivist syallabic, to poetry at this moment in 21st Century as I predicted when I this aged poet before I wer't pushed out to transform again, etc....

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