Here Poem by Hibah Shabkhez

Here we lay etched upon the grass
The sun rained down in broken rays
Seared to smudges, fried-onion brass
The colour that will haunt our days

Here we stood carved into a tree
Wobbly letters at the ends of a spear
Driven through a heart doomed to be
The lodestone of every shattered tear

Here we sailed forth in a cockel-shell
Round the world, round and back again
Here the ocean sounded its old knell
Whirled us back into the old pain