Rocket road

Nothing could have landed here
where the land is flat as iron
but where you also know that
loss is a natural phenomena

with the start of the spring,
green are the tops of the mountains
here summer and winter are the same
gathering at the feet of the mountainous ranges

goats, yet to be shaved sheep
a broken Bedouin and three donkeys
grazing on a little green
between the tents and the doorway

you know you have already lost your way
not by the voice that eggs you to return
rerun the same course
but by your inability to breathe

all losses are the same
one road can take you north
while the south promises you
a feast of joy, little findings

this was rocket road, a road
cut over by war that has not
even stopped yet, where the rockets landed
now the sheep graze