Then, all of a sudden
We are here,
Perched on a frozen ground
Wind slowly whirls away
There is no rain
It only snows slowly down
Food is plenty
We eat big portions in short intervals
A few die every day
The ones left, are left more to eat.
We will have to eat more
There is no way to store the dead
We are bodies inside bodies
Moving in a mute tune
We chew in dark, in day light
We bend to rip a strip
of the soft inside of an arm,
of the soft curve of a neck,
or a pull a handful of the innards
Heads whirling, bodies whirling
Swollen in a fair skin,
We are perched on a frozen land
We drink the juice of the fresh dead
Eat the ones closer to rot
There is no rain
It snows slowly down
Wind snatches bits and whirls slowly away
We are thankful for the veiling frost
Because if anything, anything at all
We dread this smell
.
Saghi Ghahraman
Military Trail Scarborough Toronto 2002