Beneath The Surface

You walked a road where the stones bled black,

An orphan of war, no path to track.

At eleven, the earth claimed what was owed,

Yet still, you returned, though the skies had eroded.

A coin for the journey, the rest in your stride,

Through storms you moved, with nowhere to hide.

An eye lost to hunger, but you never fell,

Silent as death, with no tears to tell.

The wars came again, and you drifted once more,

But the land you sought was not yours to restore.

You carved out your place where the winds would not bend,

And I learned from your silence, where words couldn't mend.

When you slipped from the world, no wail met the tie,

But in dreams, you returned, where the lost never die.

You whispered softly, your voice like a veil,

“Peace found me where the living prevail.”