Wind-blown, War-torn by Cath Campbell

Is there
a point where feet and heart give,
and misery sinks you?
How can you move on
to lands where eyes are cold,
where hard faces follow your lines,
judge your dress, your desperation?
How do you feed yourselves hope
against barbed-wire borders of mind
closed to you and your children
who sleep where they drop?

Shut up, heart!
You made a decision to go
before you and yours burned
along with houses and hospitals,
and those who did not go, could not go.

Shut up, feet! Keep walking,
and pray for a tougher pair of boots.

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