There is a lingering stench
of burned flesh that tears
this skin apart.
It starts with cries,
then comes the deafening silence,
my hands groping for light,
and then the bared teeth
and my chest on fire.
We’re taking over the city,
and we don’t even know it.
I see the walls in neutral,
like the raging sea
under the hands of a bishop
whose cathedral towers
over the entire land.
Taller and indestructible,
these walls are bare to the core.
And I try to pass through.
I try to spit fire on them.
But I’m too weak
and too young
and too broken.
There is so much blood,
yet the earth wants more.
——-
Leigh Dispo is fifteen years old and lives in the Philippines. She writes poetry because “words can reach beyond the horizon and travel even the undiscovered universes. Galaxies.” The featured image is a photograph by Leigh Dispo.
UltraViolet Tribe 