What We Carry Within Us

By rights, the war should be over
now one side gone,
old fights left to dry in the sun.

 But peace still hasn’t come.
I repair my home,
mend the walls, put glass in windows,
reconstruct smashed drains.

 With a shovel I fill in craters.
and dig new holes 
for the planting of fruit trees and flowers.

I trust they'll bloom, 
deliver sweet fragrance of blossoms 
and shade hot rooms.

As for me, I still wear a shirt 
over all my scars.
Each scar is a buried shell still alive.

 It's a heavy load I must carry,
maybe should have died.
But didn’t and, instead, am dead weary. 

Dear God, please send cool rain.