Travel Tips
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The war said to the children,
by giving the crayons of wounds,
“Now you can draw.”
They drew a long red line.
cutting through the middle
page of nothingness.
Then it asked,
“What’s this?”
“This is our ID card.”
One said,
While on his one remaining leg.
The camp was a school
in an unknown locality.
Children’s cries was the rooftop.
For it stretched their hunger.
Don’t ask the name, country, or home,
For those concepts are unformed
At the time of entering the school.
The body parts,
which may be lost at any moment,
are not carried along.
No one’s left
in the hide-and-seek of break time.
We always walk
with a piece of land
in which we’re going to be buried.
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