Day 524/Ceasefire Day 54

In the house, in the streets, in the field
where once there were rows of flowers,
there are unexploded land mines.
Step on one by mistake,
it’s the end:  a small personal bomb,
reminder of months of bombs
that fell from the sky.  They have stalled
the food trucks, they've stopped
the flow of electricity.  You’re
hungry, thirsty, weary
of being afraid, weary of looking around
to see where the drones are, 
the snipers, the soldiers.  And now
your children play in the field
where once their school stood
and you stand where your house
stood, watching them, your eyes
combing the dust for a glint
of metal, monitoring every move
of their small feet that have survived
thus far …