Daniela Oana - Poet and Photographer

Flocks of the Furrows 

 

I fall in a furrow

Unsure if I tripped

Or if I am tripping

On enemy drug

After they shoot

High dosage of bullets

Into my veins.

 

I am dreaming,

Unsure if I fell

Asleep or unconscious

After a knockout

From heavy blows

By landmines

All after my legs.

 

I am still walking

Unsure if I reached

God’s gate of Hell’s rings

After dodging

Sparrows or arrows

Swallowing blood

While swallows soar.