top of page
Zolénas Poetry Logo Wax without background_edited.png
  • Writer's pictureZoléna

Crafters of War


A beat. Another beat. And another beat...

Many beats later and here we are...

Breath sent from distant star...

Knowing naught.

Feeling all.

What we brought.

Is our call.

A call to share the love within,

to share what us were given.

But we've been wrought by blinded kin,

their care for us a sliver.

The pain inside ourselves

makes us point our fingers 'round,

others are the sinners -

not our pain from underground.

It's them who's wrong and never me,

I'm right why can't they see?

My judgment roams so righteously,

I wish they would be free.

As free as I, for I am perfect,

they should heed my truth.

They should know what's right for them

for I am such a sleuth.

So I roam from coast to coast

and plague them with my war,

forgetting that we are all

the family of stars.

Forgetting that what lives inside

only wants a hug,

our minds have gone and gotten bitten

by a painful bug.

A bug that lives within,

that feeds on all those times,

those times I wasn't kin,

those times when love was crime.

Those times when love was crime.

Those times when love was crime.

They show the cycles created,

they show destructive path,

they show how I've narrated

and justified my wrath.

They show my hate for you,

is but the hate for me.

They show what I must do,

in order to break free.

All I ever wanted was to have my crafted words,

reach into the heart of mine that's longing to be heard.

Perhaps they can remind me of all those painful moments,

perhaps they can unblind me and show me how I'm broken.

So that I can understand that we're all broken children,

looking for the love we craved when it to us went missing.

So that I can find the kindness that I have inside,

so that I can understand there is no need to hide.

So that I can hear the beating heart that I forgot,

so I can remember what I am and what I'm not.

Knowing less,

feeling more,

I confess

with open doors.

I am here,

beating still,

until I draw last breath.

I am me and I am you - a light from starry death.


118 views1 comment

Recent Posts

See All


Ever seen a child on music? That's still you. Remember...


In chains we go in chains unknown pains we try to outgrow. But how are we to grow? When we refuse to point that finger at ourselves.


What was that thing you did, as child with playful ease? It might just be your key to that which sets you free. To that which brings you life, to that which beams your soul. To that which helps the st

1 Comment

Fordragon Folley
Fordragon Folley
Jan 18, 2020

Hello there Zolena, :) I'm loving it!

"I confess with open doors" is my favourite here, that's a great metaphor I haven't heard before. One piece of feedback from me: I think this font is really hard for me to read and it may take away from the experience. Perhaps you could experiment with one that may be easier on the eyes? Love, Ain

bottom of page