Water Heart by Matthew A. Hamilton

The wind whispers to the Tigris River. I talk to the water because I am shy to God. Birds gather seed. Tigers devour prey. Hyenas lick up the scraps of God. I sit in the dark and worry. I watch death rise like heated sand— Iraq is a shit hole of dusty blood. Faces of children tremble in peacemaking corners. It is the children that force me to remember those who have died foolishly. Everything is foolish in war. I remember my dead friend, My mind is a liquid oblivion. I grip my weapon. I live in a world of shadows.

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