Unroofed

It haunts. 
You still want to see the― 
beheading, piecemeal 
in borderless pain. 
The war had defrauded my life. 

An unsoiled moon 
was taking depressed steps tonight. 
Faith healing had stopped. 

Floaters swim again in view. 

A forbidden place. 
You do not want to visit the 
Blood-soaked turf. 

Darkness enters 
the poem.